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THE RED LANTERN 


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' THE RED LANTERN ^ 


BEING THE STORY OF THE 

GODDESS OF THE RED LANTERN LIGHT 


BY 


EDITH WHERRY 


" East is East and West is West 
And never the twain shall meet ** 



NEW YORK 

JOHN LANE COMPANY 

MCMXI 




'OA 


% ^ 

Copyright, 1911, by 
JOHN LANE COMPANY 









© Cl. A 2 y (') G 0 5 


TO MY FRIEND 

THEODORA POLLOK 


5 


'Author^ s Note 

The author wishes to acknowledge her indebtedness to 
the Kev. Dr. Arthur H. Smith for his kind permission 
to make use of certain facts and materials found in his 
book: China in Convulsion, These are notably trans- 
lations of Boxer placards and incantations, and a quoted 
account which Dr. Smith gives of the Grand Council 
of June 16, 1900, embodied in the ‘‘ Experiences of a 
Refugee at Peking and on the journey South, pub- 
lished in the North China Daily News, August 8th, 
1900. 


\ 


CONTENTS 


PROEM 

PAOS 

My Twin Lilt Buds . 13 

BOOK I 

At the Ark op the Covenant . . r.- •; . . 37 

BOOK II 

The Great Sword and the Red Lantern . . . 151 







PROEM 


MY TWIN LILY BUDS 




A' 


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J 


THE RED LANTERN 


MY TWIN LILY-BUDS 

I N that fantastic and incomprehensible old capital, 
Peking, there was, before the late Boxer uprising, 
perhaps no region more suggestive of lurking ills, of 
gloom, treachery, and ignominy, where fate skulks in 
sickly guise, than that lying beyond the Eastern Mar- 
ket Place under the shadow of the lofty Tartar Wall 
which divides the Manchu from the Chinese city. In 
this place of owls and bats and ruined tree-tops from 
which the moss hung like the beards of hoary demons, 
even the children seemed aged and misshapen, while 
their parents sitting apathetically in sunken doorways 
looked like mummies partially revivified. 

On one of the streets in this quarter that seemed more 
palsied with age if possible than the others, so crooked 
and uncertain were its meanderings, so feeble its current 
of life, a coffin shop stood out between a coalyard and 
joss house, like an impish leer at the death-in-life about 
it. And in the scene that was being enacted in the court- 
yard behind it, irony completed itself. For a woman 
like an ancient chronicle in wax, seared, blackened, al- 
most mildewed by time, came blinking out from one of 
the chambers of the quadrangle, supported by a burly 
fellow who led her gallantly enough towards a newly- 
made coffin. 

“Hai! There, now, mother! What do you say to 
that? Five feet of good timber in the lid alone, joints 
not to be cracked open by a mallet, and all ready if you 
die to-night’' 


13 


14 


THE EED LANTERN 


The kindliness of the tone was unmistakable. The old 
dame shrank neither from the speaker, nor the object 
of his pride. Instead, she hobbled closer to the coffin 
and helped her old eyes by running her hands over the 
sides and edges of it. 

“Honey-comb joints,’^ she muttered, “and nails all 
ready to be driven. I sleep well of the worms ! Aye, 
it is a good son, a good son ! ’ ’ Her delight was sincere if 
grisly. Then a fear possessed her and her old tones 
cracked in voicing it. 

* ‘ Is my son sure of the fit ? ^ ^ 

The burly fellow burst into a guffaw of laughter. 

“Mahlee,’' he cried to a girl of about sixteen who was 
seated in a doorway. “Our mother, here, is afraid of 
cramped knees in her new bed. Fetch a quilt and 
spread it within. We’ll see that her legs have room.” 

The girl laughed, then shivered. As she arose, she 
appeared extraordinarily tall for a Chinese woman, and 
she was possessed of a baffling beauty. Yet, certainly 
the formula of loveliness prevailing from time imme- 
morial in the Flowery Kingdom did not fit her in every 
item. “Eyebrows like the leaf of the willow, eyes like 
the kernel of an apricot, a mouth like a cherry, a face 
shaped like a melon seed,” were phrases too regular to 
describe that which made her at once a charm and a 
puzzle. Yet one last simile — “a waist like a poplar 
and the willow in the wind” — poetic justice might have 
granted her, for from the waves of her black hair to the 
arch of her foot she was all lissomeness and undulation. 

At the moment, only she of the three persons in the 
courtyard felt any grimness in the “fitting” of the cof- 
fin ; only she felt its sardonic humour. And this discern- 
ment in her was of a piece with the ripple in her hair, 
the English stubbornness of her chin, and the blue in the 
iris of her eye, although for the most part she held her 
eyes half closed like a Buddha’s. When she did that, 
the lids appeared quite plainly almond-shaped. It was 


IIY TWIN LILY BUDS 


15 


only the flash of humour or anger or joy that revealed 
the Saxon blue in them. Child of Europe and Asia, and 
scornfully disowned by both, Mahlee was without pride 
of surname. 

Still smiling and shivering, the Eurasian girl brought 
the quilt and laid it in double folds in the coffin. The 
old woman held up her arms and was lifted into it by her 
son. He straightened out her limbs with rough tender- 
ness. 

“See you, the fit is faultless.’’ 

“Aye, there is ample room,” the old waxen head fell 
back contentedly on the quilt, the eyelids relaxed, the 
appearance of death was complete. 

The laugh and shiver of the girl mingled in a nerv- 
ous scream. She fell on her knees by the coffin, clasp- 
ing long gold-coloured hands in supplication. 

“Granddame, quick! open your eyes!” 

Yang-Ling, the coffinmaker, laughed loudly, and his 
old mother shuffled to a sitting position, giving out a gat- 
toothed grumble. 

“Girl, will you always be a cat treading on my heart? 
Do you not know the proverb. When the tops of the ears 
of an old person hang down and are dry he must be des- 
tined soon to enter his cofiin! It is seemly, then, that 
all things be prepared.” She turned with grateful gen- 
tleness to Yang-Ling. “I have a dutiful son. May the 
gods reward him!” And for a moment her old cheek 
rubbed against his hand as she was lifted out and set on 
her feet. 

Mahlee hung her head. She could understand that 
her grandmother’s seemingly commonplace submission 
in the face of death was, in truth, the mark of a culture 
consummated through the ages of an ancient nation, — 
that admirable poise, not stiff with stoicism, but full of 
naturalness which is the death right of the Oriental. In 
such a view of it the girl’s fastidious taste could not but 
approve of Madame Ling’s quiescence, and feel ashamed 


16 


THE RED LANTERN 


that an untamed current of blood should make an equal 
resignation in herself impossible. 

She heard her grandmother describe to Yang-Ling, as 
she leaned on his arm to be led back to her room, the 
terrible nature of Mahlee’s anger the day before at the 
market place when she had been twitted by someone 
about her foreign blood. 

‘‘Such was her rage,’^ she said, “that it made the 
three spirits of the body jump wildly about, and the 
five dominant influences fly into space, and at the end 
precipitated her into a reckless running as if chased by 
a corpse come to life.” 

Mahlee smiled aside in scorn of this recital and Yang- 
Ling’s hiccoughs of response from an over-stimulated 
gullet. Yet she followed Madame Ling, when her son 
relinquished the old dame at the door of her chamber, 
determined to make amends for her lapse. 

“The Ya-bah (deaf-mute) from the foreign mission 
came yesterday and presented a goat’s milk cheese with 
his compliments. Will you eat of it to-night, or do you 
prefer an arrowroot which I have made pretty with 
pomegranate juice? See!” Mahlee held up for choice 
two dishes on a lacquer tray. 

Madame Ling sniffed suspiciously. “Ug! Your for- 
eign concoctions again! ‘Ivory is not obtained from 
rat’s teeth’! The Ya-bah ’s cheese is most likely a 
poisoned mess of infant’s brain, and you have wasted 
your pomegranate juice, squeezing it into a jelly of 
babies ’ eyes. Blessed be Buddha ! I am not too old to 
munch safer food. Jou-po-pos and a sliver of garlic is 
my appetite to-night and no cookery of devils.” 

“Your honourable desire shall be accomplished,” said 
Mchlee, not quite meekly. She was hurt by the slight 
offered to the Ya-bah ’s gifts. An outcast like herself, 
by reason of his infirmity, he was her only admirer — 
this poor dumb man from the foreign mission — and con- 
stituted likewise her sole link with that strange un- 


MY TWIN LILY BUDS 


17 


known race whose blood ran in her own veins. Yet 
swallowing her mortification, she arranged the pillows 
on the kang, or brick bed, and settled her grandmother 
indulgently among them. Then she brought out a jar 
of glutinous flour, dipped water from a stone cistern, and 
proceeded to mix and roll out disks of dough with which 
she enveloped a small quantity of spiced meat; then, 
deftly fluting the edges, she dropped them one by one 
into the boiling kettle. They were served to her grand- 
mother as hot little dumplings, swimming in vinegar, 
the sliver of garlic finding a place on the tray beside 
them. 

Perfection indeed they were of their kind, and Ma- 
dame Ling knew it, but nevertheless bit her old teeth 
into them with no word of praise. For the emotion 
which Mahlee had displayed in the coffin episode had 
displeased the old dame. She had not taken it as a 
tribute of affection but only as a freak of alien blood — 
objectionable, even ominous. Long ago she had sold her 
daughter’s honour for seventy taels of silver and had 
never seen reason to regret her bargain. For in spite 
of the young woman ’s extreme beauty, the neighbours had 
all said that the price was good. But now the signifi- 
cance of the coffin waiting in the courtyard was begin- 
ning to pierce her. Would the gods find it an objection 
that she had allowed her blood to mingle with the ac- 
cursed foreigner’s? 

Mahlee had from the first ^‘disturbed her spirit like a 
cat treading on her heart.” She feared the firm jaw, 
the wanton hair, and the hateful blue of the eyes which 
became visible when the girl laughed or cursed. Ma- 
dame Ling had never understood either Mahlee ’s laugh- 
ter or revilings ; they were seldom provoked by the same 
things which called forth her own. But she considered 
them both of ill omen. 

Yet she did not hate her granddaughter, which was 
no doubt due to the fact that the little Mahlee, finding 
2 


18 


THE RED LANTERN 


it in her own nature to love, had upon the death of her 
mother — poor speechless victim! — fastened convulsively 
upon the next nearest object, which happened to be the 
withered stem supporting that old yellow quince — her 
grandmother ’s head 1 The gods must have smiled to see 
them there — the beldame writhing superstitiously in the 
embrace of an infant demi-she-devil, yet with a certain 
dim hankering to cuddle the thing, and the little demon 
herself not to be put off with less than a trial tug at 
each of the old woman’s dried bags of breasts; and 
finally the gat-toothed grin at the exploit simultaneous 
with the shrill wail of defeat. 

No, Madame Ling did not hate her granddaughter. 
When Mahlee, to please her on fete days, braided her 
hair in comely fashion, plastering all the unmaidenly 
tendrils flat to her head with quince seed paste, and re- 
membering to keep her eyelids lowered so that the blue 
beneath did not show, had issued forth to market or 
shops with the conventional mincing step of the Chinese 
damsel, Madame Ling had even been proud to lean on the 
arm of the handsome girl, and introduce her to friends 
as her “stupid thorn.” 

The mincing step had been acquired after long prac- 
tice to mitigate one horror of foreignness about the girl, 
otherwise irremediable; Mahlee ’s feet were a good span 
in length — truly a scandal in a country where five inches 
of feminine extremity is thought vulgar, four inches only 
lady-like, and three not too dainty. To call Mahlee ’s 
feet “Lotus Flowers” was considered by the neighbour- 
hood exquisite irony, and a sonnet addressed to them by 
some wag as “My Twin Lily-Buds,” beginning; 

“Big feet, good luck; we all suppose 
Felicity hangs from the tips of the toes.” 

was regarded as an achievement in satire. 

Most of the young women of Mahlee ’s age had plucked 
out their front locks for the bridal and some were even 


MY TWIN LILY BUDS 


19 

now mothers. They believed that Mahlee’s feet formed 
her sole obstacle to like distinction, and commiserated 
her openly. One little lady, by name Mrs. Chao, who 
herself minced through the world like a butterfly on 
needle points, jestingly advised the girl to cut off the 
offending members, for even stumps, she supposed, would 
be more comely than such barbarities. But Mahlee re- 
ceived both jests and satire for what they were worth, 
sincerely regretting that her feet had never been bound, 
but making the best of the matter by cultivating a 
dainty hobble on the tips of her toes. 

But as for Madame Ling, she found on approaching 
death that she could support with some equanimity the 
thought of Mahlee ’s blue eyes and curling hair — the 
gods might overlook them as freaks of nature. — But 
those unbroken feet became a burden well-nigh insup- 
portable. They could look nothing less than monstrous 
to any god of refined sensibilities; already she heard the 
voice of doom pronouncing sentence upon her ; ‘ ‘ A swine 
thou shalt be ! Nirvana is not for those who have given 
their blood to the making of feet so abominable!” 

Long ago she would have bound Mahlee ’s feet before 
they had grown to such enormities but for the command 
laid upon her by the “foreign mandarin,” Mahlee ’s 
father. After giving orders for the mother ^s burial, 
he had glanced at the babe and learning that it was a 
girl, “You shall not bind her feet,” he had said, and 
strode off, never again to reappear. That, with some 
600 taels — a fortune ! — left carelessly on a table, was the 
only provision he had made for his daughter. But Ma- 
dame Ling, to whom the command had been addressed, 
feared devils as well as gods; and although the words 
themselves would have restrained her but little,’ she re- 
membered the blue glint of the foreigner’s eyes which 
emphasised them, and dared not disobey. 

Madame Ling thought of these things as she sat 
bolstered up among her pillov/s deftly chasing jou^po-pos 


20 


THE RED LANTERN 


about her bowl with her polished chopsticks. The late 
afternoon sunshine filtered in through the papered lat- 
tice of the room as a milky translucence through which 
familiar objects lost their distinctness like pale stars in 
a nebula. In truth it was the fitting medium for the 
play of the old woman’s waning senses, as if she were 
permitted to linger a moment in some delicate mid-world 
before the blotting of complete darkness. 

Her voice, when she finally broke silence, reached the 
Eurasian girl seated by the door, less as a human utter- 
ance than as an impalpable hand stretched from some 
remote obscurity. The girl felt rather than heard it, 
and quivered under its searching lightness. 

“The gods demand sacrifice, Mahlee. ” 

“Aye, Granddame, I have heard it said.” 

* ‘ Did you notice a savour of death in me as I lay in the 
coffin ? ’ ’ 

“It was rather the appearance of a deep sleep.” 

“But sleep is not fearful. Come, tell me why you 
screamed.” The old woman’s beady eyes glittered in 
the paleness. 

“The honourable closing of your lids” — ^here Mahlee 
stopped. 

“You have seen them close before.” 

“Aye, I have seen them close before.” 

“Then why did you cry out as if you had seen a 
spirit?” 

For answer the overwrought girl rose from her bench 
and flung herself on the kang at her grandmother’s 
feet. 

“Oh, Granddame, Granddame! I shall be desolate 
without you ! ’ ’ 

There was a singular gleam in the little black eyes 
which was not altogether the light of answering affection. 
Nevertheless, she placed a mildewed hand on the girl’s 
shoulders. 

“It is true,” she said, “that the owl never comes on 


MY TWIN LILY BUDS 


21 


an errand of good omen and yesternight I saw him 
perched on a pile of coffins outside my window/’ 

Mahlee sobbed. 

On the 5th, the 14th and the 23rd days of the 
month,” Madame Ling continued, ‘‘one has said, ‘Do 
not venture to risk the Pill of Immortality.’ I have re- 
garded this word, and passed by those days, but now in 
the waning of the moon, it would be safe to go out if all 
were accomplished.” 

“Is not the coffin made?” Mahlee wondered. 

“Aye, and a handsome one it is, but the gods are 
jealous and demand other things besides.” 

“What other things, Granddame?” 

But the old woman had sunk into a reverie, and a half 
hour passed before she spoke again. Mahlee took some 
live charcoals from a brazier with a pair of tongs and 
put them into the fire place which was built into the 
hang. Flues ran from it under the brick. The Novem- 
ber nights were chill ; Madame Ling had always liked a 
warm bed ; now more than ever it was a necessity to her 
bloodless limbs. After blowing up the fire, as the day 
was already darkening, Mahlee lighted a wick afioat in 
oil and prepared by its feeble rays a sedative of white 
wine and opium which she held to her grandmother’s 
lips. The dickering light from the wick brought out the 
contours and shapes in the little room with tremulous 
uncertainty. The earthern irregular fioor, the sunken 
doorway barely holding the door by its broken hinges, 
the unceiled rafters blackened by the smoke of genera- 
tions of coffinmakers, the walls with the tattered plaster 
adhering to the grey brick like the scales of a scrofula, 
and finally, the wizened body of the old woman wrapped 
in its quilts on the hang, were the large hieroglyphs of 
the immemorial poverty of China, that inertia of ages, 
wffiich has settled down over millions like the blighting 
dust of the street. 

Yet even into this wretched dwelling the national art 


22 


THE RED LANTERN 


had penetrated. Madame Ling, also, as well as any 
grand tai-tai (lady) of the land possessed her carved 
teak-wood chest in which were kept precious bits of 
cloisonne, porcelains, and lacquer, and among them two 
bowls of translucent jade chiselled in an extravagance of 
finesse with fairy workmanship of flower and leaf, but- 
terfly and bird, and elegant little monster. The very 
cup, indeed, that Mahlee now held to her grandmother’s 
lips was a miracle of old China, and the face that leaned 
over it from out the quilts was no less a one. For it 
would be scant justice to regard Madame Ling with her 
superstitions as a mere vulgar crone, when a very prince 
of a connoisseur might well have been baffled to in- 
terpret the records of that waxen countenance. For 
the paradoxes of the Chinese character were written 
therein, which of all paradoxes in the world are the 
least understood. If the oblique old eyes held abysses 
of superstition, of avarice and deceit, they were just 
as truly clear wells of fortitude, — endurance infinitely 
good-humoured of every ill the gods might send. And 
the almost toothless mouth remained, even in the piti- 
able sinking inward of the withered lips, a mark of the 
fine self-sufficiency of her race, which was scarcely weak- 
ened by any servility the body could betray. The 
trembling limbs and quavering voice might beg for a 
certain leniency, but Madame Ling herself was free 
from the craving for sympathy, although she took it 
when offered as she might have accepted a honey-cake. 
Nevertheless, as was soon wonderfully to be revealed, 
this strange old hag had also her passions. She could 
despise with passion and love with passion, and could dis- 
play both these feelings in turn towards the same object 
with a sort of appalling completeness. But for no hu- 
man being — unless it were the “foreign mandarin” — 
had Madame Ling ever known either fear or reverence, 
although for the gods and all inhabitants of the super- 
natural world she had a profound and abiding awe. 


MT TWIN LILY BUDS 


23 


This fear was in her eyes, now, as she sipped the 
poppied wine. For, in truth, with her reflections on 
the past, there had been forming in Madame Ling’s 
mind a scruple. She had never known what had be- 
come of Mahlee’s father. What if the foreigner were 
already dead? Would she not have to meet him soon 
on the further brink and render to him an account of 
those 600 taels he had left as his daughter ’s patrimony ? 
Could she tell him that she had spent it all for jade 
and porcelain to All her teak-wood chest? This was 
not, to be sure, her gravest cause for alarm, — not com- 
parable, indeed to the danger she ran with the gods 
on account of Mahlee’s feet; but yet she felt that the 
foreign mandarin, in any incorporeal state he might 
have assumed since his hasty leave-taking so many 
years ago, could hardly fail to be a powerful sort of 
demon and in his degree would also need propitiating. 
So it was that Madame Ling for the first time in her 
life addressed Mahlee with the formality which she 
had always insisted the girl should use towards her- 
self: 

“May it be your honourable pleasure to fetch me 
our chest. ’ ’ 

The proud flush in Mahlee’s cheeks was the prelude 
to her humble response. 

“My unworthy hands are ever happy in your serv- 
ice!” 

She lifted the chest to the Icang and opened its carved 
doors. The flickering light in the room played about 
the polished surface of the china and the cloisonne, and 
crept into the tiny chiselled crevices of the two jade 
bowls. These last the girl placed in Madame Ling’s 
hands, as she had done every night since she was old 
enough to be entrusted with the service. The old lady 
gloated over them now with the same fervour as on the 
day she had purchased them with the taels of little 
Mahlee’s patrimony. They were the flnest things in 


24 


THE RED LANTERN 


her collection, and her collection was the finest in the 
neighbourhood. She had never begrudged the price she 
had paid for them, although Yang-Ling at the time 
had grumbled at her for not using the money to repair 
the dilapidated walls and leaking roof of the house. 
But her answer had silenced him. She would like to 
know if her much-to-be-censured offspring could not 
live where his worshipful ancestors had dwelt before 
him, without wasting a whole patrimony (she did not 
say whose!) on effeminate repairs. If his eyes had not 
been glued entirely shut, he would have perceived in- 
deed that the fame of their illustrious household did not 
rest on gross brick and mortar but on the fine metals 
of adornment and delight. 

Whatever may be said for the logic of this volley, 
it is to be questioned if a sound roof over her head and 
firm walls about her, would have given Madame Ling 
half the comfort that the contemplation of the fragile 
jade had brought her every night for sixteen years. 
It had been understood that the bowls were to be buried 
with her. Night after night, Mahlee had renewed her 
promise to fulfil this duty. The gods, whom Madame 
Ling habitually regarded as connoisseurs in art, would 
no doubt recognise the distinction of anyone who could 
bring them such offerings. 

But, to-night, Madame Ling’s gloating look was in- 
tensified by another look of almost agonised regret at 
the suddenly formed decision to part from her treas- 
ures. For in truth her old nerves shrank from any 
more ^‘dominant influences flying into space” which she 
might encounter on the other side of the grave. So it 
was with a pang, sharp but brief, that she handed the 
bowls back to her granddaughter. 

‘‘They are honourably yours,” she said, with just 
a touch of plaintiveness in her old voice, “purchased 
with the taels the foreign mandarin, your father, left 
for your dowry.” 


MY TWIN LILY BUDS 


25 


She gave no apology or reason for her original ap- 
propriation of the money. Mahlee, amazed, curtsied 
low. Her cheeks glowed with a curious metallic lustre 
as if a layer of gold-leaf had been applied under the 
skin. But her reply was meek. 

“The exceedingly estimable gift which my most hon- 
ourable grandmother has lavished upon me, I permit 
myself unworthily to accept.’^ 

Madame Ling drew a profound sigh. She had hoped 
at the last instant that Mahlee would refuse the gift, 
and that the bowls might be buried with her according 
to her most cherished dream. Indeed the sigh smote 
the girl’s heart. 

‘ ‘ Granddame, Granddame, ’ ’ she sobbed, ‘ ‘ I don ’t want 
the brittle green things!” 

Madame Ling’s old Chinese eyes snapped with mo- 
mentary anger at the disparagement; then they began 
to twinkle with amazing cunning as she put her hand 
on the shaking shoulder of her granddaughter. 

“Aye, aye, they are only brittle baked clay, as you 
say, and not worth your taking. Your granddame has 
been a great fool to cherish them so long, but bury 
them in my coffin, like a good girl, and do not tell the 
neighbours what an old hedgehog of an ancestor you 
had.” 

She began to chuckle with such violence that Mahlee 
feared she had taken a fit, and compelled her to swallow 
more of the wine and opium. It had its effect. The 
old woman fell back on her pillows but her eyes re- 
mained open. She had another, more momentous pro- 
pitiation to make before she could die in peace! 

The heavy fumes of the sedative made Mahlee 
drowsy. She sat down on a bench and lolled back with 
her head against the wall, her long arms dropped 
straight downward at her sides with the heaviness 
of inanimate things. She felt as if she were grad- 
ually turning into a mummy from mere contact with 


26 


THE RED LANTERN 


so much that was old and withered. Madame Ling’s 
form was visible to her now only as a pitiful outline 
sunken between its quilts. But the lighted wick cast 
a weird reflection upon the old woman’s head so that 
it became a pivot for the girl’s dreamy consciousness. 
The intense beady glitter from the watchful old orbs 
acted, indeed, upon her nerves like a hypnotic charm, 
and as she breathed more and more the room’s sur- 
charged atmosphere, she felt her own eyelids closing 
heavily. Yet underneath them she retained for some 
time a vision of the old head swaying forward over the 
quilts. She must finally, however, have fallen asleep 
in the gloom and silence and inebriating smoke of the 
miserable room. 

Then, suddenly, she started to hear the silence broken 
by the same words that Madame Ling had uttered in the 
beginning of the evening. 

“The gods demand sacrifice, Mahlee.” 

“What sacrifice do they demand, Granddame?” 

“Do you remember Mrs. Chao, Mahlee?” 

The question seemed irrelevant. 

“Mrs. Chao, — the tai-tai (lady) who presented you 
with ten pounds of tea lately?” 

“The same. Do you recall her advice?” 

* ‘ That I should cut off my feet and walk on my knees ? 
Aye, it was a good jest,” Mahlee laughed. 

Madame Ling sighed profoundly for the second time 
that night. Mahlee slept anew with the sigh in her 
ears until perfect stillness came and held her completely 
unconscious. Then after some unreckonable period, 
whether a half hour, an hour, or three hours, she could 
never say, the girl found herself again fully and — ter- 
ribly — awake ! 

The waning moon, just ready to slink below the hori- 
zon like a scarlet thing of shame, flung its last rays 
lurid and defiant into the hovel as Mahlee heard Madame 
Ling ’s voice say in clear vivid enunciation : 


MY TWIN LILY BUDS 


27 


‘‘The advice was well given, my Granddaughter. It 
is my desire too. The gods will richly reward you for 
so filial an act and I shall die in peace.” The words 
she had so long pondered were out at last and the old 
woman fell back exhausted on her cushions. 

Mahlee started up erect on her bench and gazed at 
her grandmother. Then she arose and advanced me- 
chanically towards the hang. But a profound change 
was coming over the Eurasian ^s face. Her heavy oval 
lids slowly lifted until, not only the blue irides, but the 
whites of the eyes also, were baldly uncovered in the 
moonlight; then, as slowly, they closed until the heavy 
black lashes fell over the cheeks from which every drop 
of blood had receded. Three times they thus lifted 
and fell, while the girl remained like a statue cut in old 
ivory. 

In truth, the words which Madame Ling had just ut- 
tered were turning to monsters of meaning in Mahlee ’s 
brain. For the expression of desire by one in authority 
is for the Chinese girl the equivalent of a command, 
and a command bears an absolutely fixed relation to 
the act of obedience. Now a horrible intelligence was 
dawning in Mahlee of what was being asked of her. 
She knew of the command laid upon Madame Ling by 
her foreign father that his child’s feet should not be 
bound, and she knew that these unbroken extremities 
of hers were objects of superstitious remorse to her 
grandmother. Now she was commanded to cut them 
off! 

The girl suddenly sank to the ground and stretched 
before her those poor, despised, but life-long allies, her 
feet — so suddenly threatened with destruction. She 
picked them up as if they were helpless twin babies, 
stripped them bare, and leaned her face over them, 
scanning them in a curious sort of pity of their inele- 
gant soundness. Then, rising, she took up the cup of 
the'* sedative which had been left on a table, weighed 


28 


THE RED LANTERN 


it a moment in her hand, smelled it, and turned her 
face again to Madame Ling. 

Her brow grew clammy. She pressed her hand 
heavily over her eyes. A curious vision haunted her. 
It was a wan little shadow flitting up and down, down 
and up the long River of Souls. She saw it stop and 
beg each ghost that it passed to help it over the river 
to the gate of Paradise beyond. She saw the phantoms 
gaze pityingly upon it, and then impotently shake their 
heads. And after each refusal she heard a sound which 
tore her heart. It was a patient plaint of weariness 
from the wan little shadow. Her mother’s soul, lost 
on the banks of eternity! In life she had been sold 
to a demon, and for that monstrous wrong she must in 
death wander forever outside the gates of Paradise. 

Suddenly a frightful thought engulfed Mahlee. In 
her quality as her father’s child was she not a half- 
devil and as such had she not the power of the evil to 
damn and torture souls? 

A thrill ran through her. The change from stupe- 
faction to determination was wonderfully swift. She 
shook off her old humility like a rag from her shoulders 
and began to move about like a grand lady before her 
inferior. Even in the gloom the blue showed horribly 
in her excited eyes. She tossed her head back and the 
masses of her sombre hair loosened and fell into a 
hundred quivering coils of wrath. 

A soul for soul! She would avenge that ancient 
wrong by wreaking penalty upon whom it belonged! 
Hordes of strange malicious spirits seemed suddenly to 
take form out of the sick moonlight and compass her 
about. She stretched out her young arms to them. 
‘‘The gods have mocked me!” she cried. “I am yours 
now. Help me!” 

As if in response to her appeal, she felt herself filled 
with a passionate evil energy. The floor seemed to 
move under her like a nest of serpents bringing her 


MY TWIN LILY BUDS 


29 


without effort to the teak-wood chest. Opening its 
doors, she took out a small vial. This she weighed and 
smelled as she had done the cup ; then, deliberately, she 
emptied its entire contents into the latter frail recepta- 
cle. The fumes of opium became denser as the willowy 
figure of the girl moved with swift grace to the kangf 
while Madame Ling sank lower into her pillows and 
began to whimper. Even the Avenger by the Kiver 
of Souls could scarce be as terrible as this tall angry 
girl. 

Madame Ling began to wave her hands weakly and 
cry : ‘ ‘ Fie ! shoo ! shoo ! ” as if chasing off a nightmare, 

when suddenly Mahlee gripped the old wrists and 
brought the cup to a level with the sunken lips. 

‘‘Here, Granddame,” she said in a tone of suave 
courtesy in singular contrast with the violence of her 
preceding gesture. ‘‘Here is the wine to make you 
sleep.” 

The old lips touched the brim. A flame seemed to 
envelope Mahlee. No, no, not yet! She had one su- 
preme question to ask that ancient soul before she 
turned devil and damned it! She drew the cup away, 
and again laid her grip upon Madame Ling’s wrists, 
bringing her face down so low that it almost touched 
the waxen mask of the other. She said no word, but 
slowly in answer to the imperative power of the girl’s 
gaze, the soul of Madame Ling rose from its abysses 
to the surface of the old oblique eyes. Miracle of the 
miracle! Mahlee, at the sight of it forgot her fury of 
revenge ; she saw, indeed, deceit, avarice, and superstition 
as bottomless as dead pools. But now, as her grip 
tightened, and her gaze grew more imperative some- 
thing never before visible broke from its prison of pride 
and struggled — anguished — into life. 

May one understand by what throes a great passion 
is born ? From the bottomless gulfs of being, below the 
caverns of lies and abominations a purifying flame of 


30 


THE RED LANTERN 


love arose in the soul of Madame Ling. The girl’s 
necessity had conjured it. It came panic-stricken, 
hastening in fear that the mortal weakness of the body, 
doomed so soon to dissolution, should fail its new im- 
mortality. It burned, as it rose, the entrails of those 
ancient vices; it consumed them utterly in pure sacri- 
fice, and stood finally triumphant before the girl in 
vestal dignity. Mahlee trembled and leaned down still 
more as the old lips moved. 

‘‘Give me the cup!” they said, “I will be accursed 
for your sake and the sake of your mother to whom I 
have done an exceeding evil.” 

Smoke of the sacrifice ! 

She had guessed the girl’s intention in its inmost 
subtlety. 

Mahlee fiung the cup to the floor where it broke 
into a hundred pieces. At that moment, she saw the 
beautiful Goddess of Mercy gently take to her arms a 
wan little shadow, and bear it across a dark river to 
a shining open gate beyond: — Nirvana! Ah, this had 
been the true way then! Not through revenge but 
through love her mother’s spirit had reached the bosom 
of Buddha! Mahlee dropped on her knees and buried 
her head upon the old woman’s sunken breast. 

“Granddame!” she cried in a hushed whisper, “I 
will do to the uttermost what the gods require!” 

Was it indeed well or ill that Madame Ling’s passion 
had not delayed for a moment its utterance? The old 
woman had stretched out her hand for the cup in one 
supreme token of abnegation. A moment ago she 
would have had strength to drain it to the dregs had it 
been given her; but now her mind was too feeble for 
further effort. She could not even follow the meaning 
of the girl’s reply. She had lapsed into a gentle 
stupor out of which a simple human desire only made 
itself evident. 

“Lie by me to-night, granddaughter,” she murmured. 


MY TWIN LILY BUDS 


31 


She was feeling again the groping hands of the little 
Mahlee at her breasts. The dumb beggar! 

With a cry of joy, Mahlee extinguished the wick, and 
folded her long arms about the body on the hang. It 
w^as cold in her embrace. She hugged it the closer, 
and crooned over it until they both slept — the old woman 

in the stupor of approaching death. 

• •••••••• 

Somewhere in a distant court of a temple, a bonze 
struck a great bell. Once, twice, three times it pealed, 
fearful, majestic, memorial — the voice of the Buddhist 
Trinity. 

Mahlee struggled out of her sleep. The morning had 
now come. Madame Ling was gasping in her arms. 

^ ‘Wine ! My son 1 My best robe ! ^ ’ 

Mahlee snatched up the wine, and called loudly for 
Yang-Ling. A few drops of the mixture passed through 
the blue lips, quieting the spasms of the body. Mahlee 
bent over her grandmother. 

“Has the moment comeU^ 

“It is here!” 

The girl flung strong arms about the inert heap, 
dragging it off the hang into an upright armchair. 
With one hand free she was able to pull from the teak- 
wood chest a heavily embroidered silk robe, bought years 
ago for this moment. She shook out its brilliant folds, 
and enwrapped Madame Ling in it. 

“Do not fear! You look very handsome. You will 
be noticed by any god.” 

‘ ‘ By any god ! ’ ’ the old woman echoed with a dreamy 
smile, while Mahlee groped for something else in the 
teak- wood chest. Ah, here it was! The blade came 
out of its old lacquer sheath with rusty reluctance. She 
passed her finger over the edge. It would be sharp 
enough if she pressed hard! She bent over the arm- 
chair and scanned Madame Ling^s face. A film waa 
forming over the oblique old eyes. 


32 


THE RED LANTERN 


The moment had come, indeed! 

To Mahlee, the room seemed full of spirits, good and 
evil, divinities and devils, all waiting in breathless sus- 
pense, — to see if she would fulfil her vow ! 

‘‘Granddame!’^ she cried in a tone of brilliant clarity, 
“sit up and watch, I will do it now.” 

At the command, the withered form straightened in its 
gorgeous apparel and watched with insensible, glazing 
eyes. Mahlee broke into an anguished sweat, and 
stooped to her task. Again she bared her feet. 

“Look! Granddame, look! your love is repaid!” 

A fine line of crimson mingled with the rust on the 
edge of the blade and grew wider and wider as the 
girl’s jaw closed tight and the strength of her young 
arms became heavy against the weapon. The glazing 
eyes of Madame Ling had followed the preparatory 
movements stupidly; then, as the first line of crimson 
showed, with the intelligence of one in a hypnotic 
sleep; at last, open-lidded, wide with complete compre- 
hension. 

“Help! Yang-Ling! Yang-Ling!” she called. But 
the cofSnmaker, deep in his wine in a remote cham- 
ber of the court, heeded not. 

And now the devils shrank back and the divinities 
applauded. Madame Ling rose in her state robe of 
death, took a step forward, stooped, seized the knife 
from Mahlee ’s hands, and hurled it across the room! 
The next instant she had fallen forward dead, over the 
fainting form of her granddaughter. 

When an hour later, the Ya-bah, or deaf-mute, from 
the Ark of the Covenant Mission, stood at the door of 
Madame Ling’s chamber and saw what was within, 
he made a sound as of some stricken animal. Then he 
stooped and laid his hands over the Eurasian’s heart. 
It was still beating weakly. With a harsh articulation 


MY TWIN LILY BUDS 


33 


of joy, he threw off his outer garment and tore into 
strips the linen shirt he wore beneath. With them he 
bound tightly the girUs bleeding ankles. The gods be 
thanked ! the knife had not reached the arteries. 

And now, stripped to the waist like a runner, the 
Ya-bah, who was a man of powerful strength, gathered 
up the slender form of the girl in his arms and ran. 
He ran through the old streets bleak in the November 
morning, down lonely labyrinthine alleys where only 
mangy dogs and clouds of poisonous dust attended upon 
his heels, past interminable rows of grey, wretched 
houses, and finally out through the squalid splendour of 
Peking’s great highways. He paused once to shift his 
burden and then sped on, along gilded shop-fronts 
carved with chimera and gargoyle, under delicate me- 
morial arches upborne like painted ribbons between 
slender mast-like columns, in and out through the day’s 
awakening trade ; carts, mules, donkeys, and camels ; 
men, women and children, crawling like ants into the 
cold light of the streets. He heeded neither gibes nor 
threats, but ran on. 

At last, he stopped before a great oaken gate and 
beat upon it with fierce knuckles. It was opened by a 
frightened old watchman. 

^‘The Ya-bah with a pack on his back! Great Bud- 
dha! a girl!” 

But the Ya-bah was already across the court, leaping 
up the low steps of a veranda and swinging open the 
door beyond. . . . 

Some time after the Ya-bah ’s exit with Mahlee from 
Madame Ling’s chamber, Yang-Ling, the coffinmaker, 
aroused at last from his lethargy, stood on the threshold 
peering in. The blood on the fioor and the prostrate 
figure of the old woman, penetrated his half-inebriated 
sense confusedly. He stooped, and began to finger the 
pattern on the embroidered robe. 

S _ 


34 


THE KED LANTERN 


^‘Why, it’s a rose,” lie said, like one who makes a 
momentous discovery; “a purple rose, and she’s dead, 
and needs to be put into her coffin. ’ ’ 

Whereupon he carried the body of the old dame to 
its coffin in the courtyard, and tucked in the folds of the 
gaudy dress with great care. 


BOOK I 


'AT THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 




1 


F or more than a quarter century previous to the 
Boxer outbreak in 1900, the Ark of the Covenant 
Mission in Peking had its headquarters in a populous 
district not far from the northern rampart of the Man- 
chu City, where the white belfry of its chapel showed 
above a high brick wall separating the mission com- 
pound from a narrow passageway known as Pheasant 
Lane. This solid length of masonry was broken at an 
interval of about a hundred yards by two immense 
oaken gates heavily bolted at night with iron bars and 
guarded during the day by two old watchmen seated 
like a dual Cerberus, one before each portal. The top 
of the wall bristled with spikes, thorns, and sharp bits 
of broken glass intended to ensnare the feet of thieves 
or feline prowlers. 

If the seeker of truth desiring admittance to the Halls 
of the ‘‘New Doctrine’’ could stand unabashed before 
this somewhat formidable defence, and throwing a sop 
in the form of a few copper cash to the old watchmen, ac- 
cept as invitation to enter, a grunt or growl at east or 
west gate respectively, he would find himself in a series 
of courts and alley-ways leading into a large central 
quadrangle of a singular Eurasian appearance. Here, 
ornamental arcades connected in long parallels two 
dwelling houses of the better style of Chinese archi- 
tecture, which, standing face to face, thus completed 
the square of the court. In the four corners of the 
enclosure the large paving stones were removed to per- 
mit the growth of trees and fiowering shrubs, among 
which lilacs of white and purple bloom showed so 

37 


38 


THE KED LANTERN 


luxuriant a growth that the quadrangle came to be 
named the Court of Lilacs. But the dry air of spring 
was sweet, too, with the pollen of other blossoms, — 
flowering almond, jasmine, pomegranate and azalea, — 
a part of the fragrant load slipping, no doubt, from the 
overburdened loins of the bees lingering all day about 
their honied labors. Prom the midst of each mass of 
shrubbery, a tree grew with precise elegance. In the 
northwest comer, a crab apple tree, freshly pink each 
April, leaned slightly towards a straight young per- 
simmon tree on the opposite side ; while in the southern 
angles of the court, an ancient mulberry and locust 
threw shades as deep as twilight upon the green tile 
unicorns and other monsters which guarded the comers 
of the projecting roofs. Although the arrangement of 
the court was distinctly Oriental, there was something 
even in the exterior aspect of the two dwellings, joined 
so neighbourly by their covered walks, which showed 
signs of adaption to Western needs. For example, the 
windows of translucent rice paper stretched over an 
ornamental lattice, so characteristic a feature of native 
houses, had been replaced by glass, set in sashes, opening 
on to the verandahs. These porches were protected 
from the sun by overhanging eaves supported on wooden 
pillars, and were further shaded in summer by large 
green awnings. The central entrance doors of the two 
houses were provided with latches and bronze knockers 
of a pattern seen most often on doors of old country 
manses. But the sloping green tiled roofs with their 
unicorns, dragons and gargoyles in faience, the arcades 
held up by their slender carved pillars painted in faded 
reds and blues and greens, the stone lions which guarded 
the porches, the rockery and broken fountain in the 
middle of the court, all spoke of a past Oriental mag- 
nificence in strange union now with a New World sim- 
plicity. 

This indeed had once been the audience court of a 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


39 


great mandarin, careful in his life time to build short 
disconnected walls in front of each ancestral gate to keep 
out the feng-shui or mischievous spirits of the air, — lit- 
erally, wind and water demons, — which, reported to 
travel only in straight lines, are so believed to be quite 
powerless to dodge wall corners. If accounts are to 
be trusted, the superstitious mandarin, become now, in 
turn, an Ancestor, must more than once have tickled 
the great yellow dragon hidden under grave-yards in 
his eagerness to leave his huge canal-boat of a coffin 
for nocturnal ramblings about the old familiar courts. 
At least, his besotted heir, an opium-eating nephew with 
a harem of wives, found that uneasy soul unpleasant 
company, and so moved by fear, and also, as was ru- 
moured, by the need of paying off his most pressing 
gambling debts, the young man had put the entire es- 
tate on sale for a few thousand taels. It was bought 
by Dr. Alexander Templeton, senior representative in 
Peking of the foreign mission board of a certain re- 
ligious sect in America, and became known thenceforth 
as the Ark of the Covenant Mission. And here it must 
be noted that immediately after the purchase of the 
property and establishment of the mission, the old man- 
darin’s spirit, overawed, one must believe, by the sym- 
bols of a new religion, sank back into a repose never 
more to be broken. 

A few years of Western ingenuity had changed the 
place from a chill and decayed old palace, into a modem 
mission station with its practical equipment of chapel, 
hospital, school houses and missionary homes. In the 
Women’s Court, now transformed into the Women’s 
hospital yard, where the tai-tais or ladies of rank had 
once sat in pinch-toed elegance over their tea and chess, 
gat-toothed beldames and mothers with nursing babes 
now cooled themselves in leisurely convalescence; while, 
in the adjoining court, where the mandarin’s nephew 
and his evil companions had drowsed long hours away 


40 


THE RED LANTERN 


in opium stupor, a bevy of clean frocked school boys 
was turned loose daily for afternoon kite flying or top 
spinning. In the southwest corner of the compound, 
the white chapel with its belfry stood comfortably 
guarded between two ancestral tablets rising thirty feet 
in the air from the backs of enormous stone tortoises, 
symbols of perpetual peace. 

Behind it, in a separate quadrangle, stood the Chi- 
nese girls’ school in care of the two maiden ladies. 
Miss Rebecca Dorn and Miss Claribel McGinnis who 
had their rooms in the building; with them, was Dr. 
Eliza Kennedy, also unmarried, who directed the Wom- 
en’s hospital; while in a house beyond the school, lived 
the Parmelee family, man, wife and three children. 
Finally, the two dwellings in the mandarin’s audience 
court had likewise become the homes for the expounders 
of the “New Doctrine”; the one on the northern side of 
the quadrangle being occupied by Dr. and Mrs. Tem- 
pletion and their adopted daughter, Mahlee, the Eurasian 
girl; and the other, by the Reverend Andrew Han- 
del, a young divine of six years’ residence in the mis- 
sion who was expecting soon to share his bachelor 
quarters with 'a new medical missionary now nearing 
Peking. 


II 


TN a low rectangular building in one of the remoter 
courts of these spacious ecclesiastical premises, the 
women ^s class of “gospel inquirers” met three times a 
week for religious instruction. In the year of grace 
1899, the meetings had been more than usually popular. 
And now between seven and eight o’clock of a chill 
evening in early spring, the wooden benches placed in 
rows before a square earthenware stove at the end of 
the room were rapidly filling with the inquirers coming 
with Pilate’s question on their lips. 

The women, almost without exception from the work- 
ing class, were dressed in the uniform blue cotton gar- 
ments of the poor Chinese which were still heavily 
wadded as in the winter season. The natural loose 
folds of tunic and pantaloons were thus destroyed, held 
out stiffly by the padding, which lent to their wearers 
an exaggerated amplitude. One of the younger women 
was already busy by the stove with a pair of foreign 
bellows with which she was fanning the coals to such 
ardour that the earthenware sides of the small furnace 
were quickly becoming red-hot. This was the centre 
around which the inquirers grouped themselves, pulling 
towards it the wooden benehes and bringing out their 
hands from the depth of their long sleeves to warm 
over it. Except for a half dozen Manchus, the women 
were all small-footed. The race now dominant has never 
indeed tolerated foot binding. Yet a few of the Man- 
chu women present had made some concession to the 
caprices of elegant foot gear by attaching squarely in 
the centre of their embroidered slippers a high heel 
upon which they walked as upon a pair of stilts. The 

41 


42 


THE KED LANTERN 


Manchus were likewise distinguishable from the others 
by their coiffure: over a wooden bar with spade-shaped 
ends placed horizontally across the back of the head, 
the hair was wound like coarse black silk on a bobbin 
and stiffly glued down with a paste made of quince 
seeds. Several of the young matrons had thrust little 
silver and gold spikes into this structure and wore 
an artificial flower behind each ear. The Chinese 
women had their hair arranged at the nape of the neck 
in a stiff projection curving upward like the bowl of a 
spoon. All without exception wore earrings, for no 
woman or girl in China is too poor to be unprovided 
with this badge of her sex. These were for the most 
part large silver and gilt pendants, chased in floral 
designs, or wrought in flligree patterns, occasionally 
with oval pieces of jade attached. In several cases the 
rings were so heavy as to have elongated the ear-lobe 
to twice its natural size as well as increasing the original 
perforation to the bigness of a pea. 

The room, lighted indifferently by a European lamp 
set on the ledge of a lattice window, was long and nar- 
row, with pavement of square grey bricks uncovered 
by mat or carpet; a few scrolls with scripture texts 
in large Chinese characters hung on the walls. Be- 
sides these, there was one other article of furniture. 
This was an armchair in ebony, very solid, square and 
stiff, with no carving save in the arms which terminated 
in the heads of two fabulous beasts, survivals of some 
forgotten mythology, it would be impossible to say of 
what epoch or country. 

The placing of this chair seemed to constitute an im- 
portant ceremony for the inquirers. A dozen sugges- 
tions were made as to the precise spot it should occupy 
before it was finally pushed and hauled to the wall next 
the court and set below the lattice of translucent rice 
paper whose ledge supported the foreign lamp. Sombre 
and massive, it had the appearance of a throne awaiting 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


43 


its occupant, with the obtruding heads of the fabulous 
beasts ready to act as body guards. In truth its air 
was but little in keeping with the Christian cheerful- 
ness of the scripture texts on the walls and the child- 
like expectancy on the faces of the women gathered 
there to hear the “good tidings.” Those in the room 
knew only that it belonged to the “Kuniang,” — an in- 
heritance, it was said, from her grandmother, a Chinese 
beldame, who, antique herself, had had a passion for 
collecting things savouring of a still more remote an- 
tiquity. The women reseated themselves and renewed 
their chatter. 

“Have the honourable ladies heard the news?” asked 
the young Manchu woman, who had been busy with 
the bellows, now rising from her efforts. She daintily 
blew the soot from the silver filigree shields protecting 
her long nails. 

News! the women pressed around her. No, they had 
heard none. Would Loh tai-tai (Mrs. Loh) courteously 
deign to explain? 

The young matron seated herself on a bench and lei- 
surely adjusted the artificial flowers behind her ears. 
“The felicitous arrival of an august new foreign doctor 
is expected to-night” — she began, and was cut short 
by a half blind crone. 

“Humph! A new foreign devil, say rather; aye, 
twice and thrice devil, yet only half foreign at that! 
But mark me,” she ended with a vindictive grumble. 
“A fish sports in the kettle but his life will not be 
long ! ’ ’ 

This oracular utterance at once turned the attention 
of the women to the new speaker. “A fish in the ket- 
tle ! Only half foreign ! ’ ’ they exclaimed. ‘ ‘ Be pleased 
to reveal to us your honourable meaning, Huang-ma 
(mother Huang).” 

“Aye, I will reveal it!” answered the old crone em- 
phatically, “for though the stubborn teeth may perish. 


44 


THE RED LANTERN 


the yielding tongue endures, and mine is still limber 
enough when needful to speak against an enemy. ’ ’ 

“An enemy, Huang-ma!” pouted the pretty Manchu, 
displeased at the interruption of her own story, “Why, 
the new doctor has not yet arrived ! What harm can he 
have done youT’ 

Huang-ma ’s bleary eyes brightened with some old 
anger, “Harm!^^ she cried. “Mayhap you would call 
it good, my girl, if your winter’s rice and coal depended 
upon your summer’s sale of eggs, to wake up one fine 
morning and see the necks of every fowl in the coop 
wrung. Mayhap you would thank the neck-wringer 
for his kind favours, and call that day a Feast of Lan- 
terns, and ogle him with your pretty eyes.” She 
wagged her head in exaggerated irony. 

“And was it the new doctor who did you this turn?” 
asked Loh tai-tai incredulously. 

“Aye,” answered the old woman. “He it was in 
truth and no other, since your august foreign physician 
is nothing more than Sam Wang, the Eurasian.” She 
pronounced the name with concentrated contempt. 

A dozen hands went up in horror. “Sam Wang I 
that child of a monkey back again in the mission ! ’ ’ 

“Even so,” replied Huang-ma, enjoying the effect 
of her oratory. “Back again to cure the sick and ex- 
pound the Gesu-words. Yet mark me well,” she re- 
peated, nodding her head sententiously, “A fish sports 
in the kettle but his life will not be long.” 

The room was in a hubbub, — the name of Sam Wang 
bandied about like a shuttlecock, his history given in 
twenty versions. Old Huang-ma was not the only one 
who had scores against Sam Wang. All who had been 
connected with the Ark of the Covenant for a half 
dozen years remembered the bad Eurasian boy of the* 
mission school and his “monkey tricks.” One very 
small-footed woman, wife of the cook in the boys’ school, 
told of how he had once caught hold of her and made 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


45 


her unbind her feet in the presence of himself and his 
two wicked companions who had burst into a roar of 
laughter at the sight of her bent toes. And ever after, 
she said, they had mocked her by calling out “Lily- 
buds ! ’ ’ when she appeared. ‘ ‘ Certainly, it is the greatest 
shame of my life,” the poor creature ended with tears 
in her eyes. And indeed for a Chinese woman, a greater 
indignity could scarcely be conceived. 

Those who had nothing real to relate invented pre- 
posterous fables for the occasion. One little woman, 
with baby cheeks painted a bright carmine, vowed that 
in coming to service one moonlight night, she had dis- 
tinctly seen Sam Wang in the chapel yard hanging from 
a tree head downwards. 

“By what?” queried a scandalized listener. 

“By his tail!” whispered back the little woman. 
“An enormous tail seven yards long.” 

“Yes, yes,” agreed the pretty Manchu eagerly, caught 
by the contagion of gossip. ‘ ‘ Seventy yards long ! But 
when I saw it, he was using it as a whip to scourge 
his comrades because they would not give him all their 
supper.” 

Suddenly, from a street not far distant where the 
Great Drum Tower stood, a booming sound arose. For 
the Tartar city, it was the setting of the night watch; 
for the women, the evening signal for prayer. In- 
stantly, fifty pairs of almond-shaped eyes were rivetted 
upon the door. 

The slight latticed frame opened without sound and 
a young woman of about twenty, clad in a long straight 
garment of some dark woollen fabric, entered, and look- 
ing neither to the right nor left, advanced slowly — 
almost stiffly — as if keeping step to some measure of 
processional music unheard by the others. 

The features of the girl were singular. Under 
slightly divergent brows and heavy oval lids, held half 
closed like a Buddha’s, her eyes showed azure with gaze 


46 


THE RED LANTERN 


slow and vague. Over the brow and face, with the just 
detectable Mongolian prominence of cheek bone smooth- 
ing down into a fine curve about a firm English chin, 
rested a saint-like placidity, — austerity, one might have 
called it, had the red upper lip, slightly parted from 
its mate, displayed a less luxurious curve over a set of 
teeth as strong as stone and white as those of a young 
carnivorous animal. A certain sensitiveness in the nos- 
trils, discoverable by a keen observer, might also have 
brought up a reminiscence of something not entirely 
tamed. The nose was distinctly European, finely chis- 
elled, with nothing of the Mongolian osseous quality of 
the brow or upper cheek, hut with a natural suggestion 
of petulance and wilfulness — even perhaps of insolence. 
Her hair, black and abundant, with a disposition to 
curl, was secured behind her neck in a complicated 
braiding, as in the female coiffures depicted on ancient 
Assyrian or Egyptian sculptures. It formed thus a 
heavy veil about her head, so close and inpenetrable as 
to be almost a hood, like the cowl, one might fancy, of 
some unknown religious order. 

The complexion of this strange creature was yellow, 
and seemed to radiate in the semi-gloom of the room, 
a peculiar metallic lustre like the gilding on a graven 
image. As she walked, her long arms hung straight 
downward at her sides with the heaviness of inanimate 
things. They ended in archaic gold-coloured hands, with 
fingers stiff, far apart, and attenuated to excess, taper- 
ing off into nails like polished bits of ivory. Her ex- 
traordinary height, as measured at least by any Chinese 
standard of tallness for women, as well as the slender- 
ness of her figure, with its discreet lines of bust and hip, 
still further emphasised this resemblance to an effigy 
of some forgotten goddess. 

Reaching the massive armchair by the lattice, she 
sat down between the heads of the fabulous beasts, and 
folding her hands in her lap looked straight out in front 


THE ARK OP THE COVENANT 


47 


of her without seeming to notice the presence of the 
women. Yet at sight of her seated thus, the heads of 
all those present fell forward over their breasts. 

The meeting had begun with silent prayer ! 


Ill 


W HEN the wordless prayer was at an end, the young 
woman opened a Chinese Bible and read to the 
assembly. Her voice was low, the enunciation curiously 
nice. As the sentences detached themselves from her 
lips, one had the impression of listening to the slow 
breaking off and falling of icicles in motionless air. 
Yet this frigidity of tone was acquired — momently con- 
trolled — by a conscious and sustained effort of the will. 
One felt power in leash here. For there was no trace 
of listlessness in this young woman’s passivity. Kather, 
negation had become in her a positive force, — an intense 
cold which scorched like fire. She read the eighteenth 
chapter of St. John. 

“Palate saith unto him, what is truth?” 

Her voice broke off with clean abruptness. 

The women, who had been leaning forward on their 
chairs, suddenly straightened up as if at the breaking 
of a spell. “What is truth? What is truth?” they 
echoed with clamorous eagerness. “Yes, that is what 
we have come to learn. Tell us, Kuniang, what is 
truth ? ’ ’ 

“Aye, tell us, Kuniang, what is truth?” a mocking 
voice repeated. 

A young man, wearing a shabby European overcoat, 
lounged in the doorway, complacently regarding the 
scene. Although not above the average height, he gave, 
as he advanced towards the lamp, the impression of 
great size. He was barrel-chested, with strong loins 
and arms outlined in formidable muscles. His large 

48 


THE ARK OP THE COVENANT 


49 


head, covered with thick black hair, coarse and straight 
as a horse’s mane, was supported between the shoulders 
by a short, massive neck, the cords of which appeared 
almost swollen. In facial traits less European than 
Mongolian, the man’s frame was yet more powerfully 
built than that of any ordinary Chinese. He was pos- 
sessed, too, of hands and feet which would have been 
a scandal even for a male inhabitant of the Flowery 
Kingdom. 

His present appearance at the Inquirers’ meeting 
was sufficiently diverting. At the sound of his voice, 
old Huang-ma rose from her bench and shook a palsied 
fist at him. 

“Sam Wang! Sam Wang! ” she shrilled in fierce 
falsetto. “Sam Wang, the Eurasian!” 

A kind of panic ensued in which the thirst for truth 
was forgotten and superstition again ran riot. For at 
the name of the Eurasian, half the women were on their 
absurd little feet, backing themselves by energetic hob- 
bles into the shadowy comers of the room whence they 
eyed the intruder with palpitating alarm. 

“Sam Wang! Sam Wang!” came from every side. 

“His tail!” cried the baby-cheeked little woman, 
seizing the silver filigree nail protectors of the young 
Manchu. 

Her companion shook her off, and catching up the 
bellows, began to blow the air before her as if to oppose 
the devil with a hurricane. The others huddled them- 
selves behind her. 

And certainly, the man as he now came under the 
direct rays of the lamp, looked ugly enough to inspire 
dread in the breasts of the timid; his skin was yellow; 
he had salient cheek bones, and oblique, coal-black eyes 
moving perpetually in restless and bold inquiry above 
a massive, irregular nose and an enormous slit of a 
mouth which closed like a steel trap. But it was an 
ugliness redeemed from actual repulsiveness by its in- 
4 


50 


THE RED LANTERN 


tense virility. Attila, King of the Huns, might have 
looked like Sam Wang! 

One, alone, in the assembly, had kept her self-control. 
This was the leader of the meeting. It is true that at 
the intrusion, even she had been startled to an ejacula- 
tion of surprise, followed by a quick angry lifting of 
heavy eyelids. Then, as she witnessed the panic of 
the women, a dull flush mounted to her cheeks and burnt 
them to the hue of old copper. But her voice was still 
steady and cold as she arose to her feet and, ignoring 
the stranger, made a gesture of dismissal towards her 
scattered audience. The disorder ceased abruptly as 
she spoke. 

‘‘At the sounding of the watch on the 16 th of the 
moon the seekers of truth will assemble again. The 
present meeting is at an end.” 

The women were glad to escape. The pretty Manchu 
headed the retreat, almost snorting with her bellows in 
the face of Sam Wang as she passed him. Clinging to 
her, came her baby-faced friend, pale under her rouge. 
The others followed, clip-clapping, whispering indignant 
protests against this bold fellow who had dared to in- 
terrupt the Kuniang and break up the meeting. Huang- 
ma, groping her way out in the rear of the procession, 
turned on the sill. 

“Mark me well,” she shrilled in flnal invective, “a 
fish sports in the kettle, but his life will not be long!” 

Meanwhile, the object of so much mingled terror and 
scorn stood smiling blandly, enjoying the excitement he 
had created. 

“Thank you, Huang-ma,” he said, bowing to the old 
crone, although speaking in English. “A sufficiently 
good prophecy from an old Cassandra like yourself! I 
am delighted to see that you all remember me. My wel- 
come back among you is certainly most gratifying.” 

With the words, he shut the door with a click on the 
faces of the women who were already beginning to crowd 


THE AEK OP THE COVENANT 


51 


back, impelled by a curiosity which conquered fear. 
But the Manchu remembered the lattice window, and in 
a moment a score of fingers were being poked through the 
rice paper and almond-shaped eyes applied to the round 
perforations. Sam Wang alone with the Kuniang! 
What a scandal ! Certainly it was their duty to watch 
and see that no sacrilege was done to their divinity. 

But the divinity seemed equal to the occasion. Stand- 
ing by the ebony armchair, she waited with unrelaxed 
facial muscles as if before an unknown worshipper to 
whom no favour was to be shown. This attitude, al- 
though winning tlie approbation of the watchful “in- 
quirers,’’ failed to embarrass the young man. 

“A thousand pardons for my intrusion, Kuniang,” 
he said lightly, turning from the door. “The truth is 
I’m just back after a five years’ absence, and, wishing 
to explore the old place a bit before announcing myself, 
adopted the biblical thief’s method of getting into the 
sheepfold. In short,” he explained, grinning, “I’ve 
just dropped down over the wall.” 

‘ ‘ The wall ? ’ ’ echoed the girl, surprised out of her si- 
lence. 

“Yes, I remembered some footholds in the masonry 
which I found useful as a boy, and thought I could es- 
cape detection in this remote end of the compound. But 
your light here gave me a scare. I imagined Handel 
would be rushing out with a ‘Welcome, Brother!’ and 
wondering why the devil I had chosen such a mode of 
entrance into my new life. Then I heard your voice — 
a cold siren call which led me straight over your thresh- 
old.” He looked at her with bold curiosity. “You 
know, you had half hypnotised me like the others, and 
I had to do something to break the spell.” 

Then, as he saw the flush of displeasure deepen in her 
cheeks, he added with clumsy sincerity: 

“But I meant no harm, and really had no intention 
of scattering your flock.” 


52 


THE RED LANTERN 


The recollection of the scene, however, proved too 
much for him. His enormous mouth twitched with an 
effort to restrain his mirth; then he burst into a loud 
laugh. 

‘‘Holy Buddha! The devil himself couldn’t have 
stirred up a prettier panic ! I thought the little Man- 
chu would puff me off the planet with her bellows 1 And 
old Huang-ma, I see, hasn’t forgotten the slaughter of 
her innocents! — ‘A fish sports in the kettle, but his life 
will not be long!’ ” he imitated in shrill falsetto, “Ha! 
ha!” — “But — ” straightening himself with forced for- 
mality, ‘ ‘ I am offending you again. After the very cor- 
dial reception tendered me by your late audience, an 
introduction of myself is superfluous, but am I not cor- 
rect in guessing you to be Miss Templeton, daughter of 
my old friends in this mission?” 

He had cleverly turned his apology into an easy means 
of presentation and was now standing unabashed before 
her. The girl’s eyes narrowed at him suspiciously as if 
she doubted the sincerity of his conjecture. 

“No, I am not Miss Templeton,” she replied stiffly, 
speaking her English with a slight accent. “Although 
I live with Dr. and Mrs. Templeton, I have never taken 
their name. I have no other name than Mahlee.” She 
brought out the last words as if under compulsion. 

The effect of them on the big man before her was 
singular. He seemed for a moment almost embar- 
rassed. 

“Oh, yes, I have heard the story. You are then the 
Eurasian girl who came to the mission the year after I 
left?” 

“Yes, if you ^^ — she paused slightly on the pronoun — 
“are, as I suppose, Dr. Wang?” 

He nodded. “Sam Wang, Eurasian like yourself.” 
Then, as if obeying some unusual impulse of sympathy, 
he extended his huge hand towards hers, and immedi- 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


53 


ately elicited a cry of indignation from the watchers at 
the lattice. 

*‘He is trying to touch her! What a scandal!’^ 
They had just time to note with satisfaction that the 
hand was ignored before Wang was leaping to the win- 
dow. 

‘ ‘ WTiat a scandal I ” he roared back, and made such a 
frightful grimace that the simple creatures took to wad- 
dling flight like a flock of scared geese. Freed from his 
indiscreet audience, Sam Wang drew a pair of heavy 
foreign curtains over the window and waved for the 
girl to be seated. He himself dropped down on a bench 
opposite her armchair. Her quick shrinking at his out- 
stretched hand had not escaped his notice, and his ban- 
tering manner returned. 

“You will not shake hands? Well, the custom is 
foolish enough, certainly. Let us begin in Chinese fash- 
ion then. How old are you?” 

As there was no response save an involuntary raising 
of eyebrows, he began to count on his fingers. ‘ ‘ I think 
I can reckon it up; you say you have been here four 
years, and when you came you were a girl of sixteen. ’ ’ 

“I did not say that,” Mahlee objected. 

“No, but 1 say it. I begin to remember the story 
perfectly. . . . Four and sixteen make twenty, and 

to be polite in this preposterous old counti^% I must 
double the figure. My dear Kuniang,” he ended with 
staid conviction. “You surely do not look a day less 
than forty, and that without flattering you in the least. ’ ’ 

In spite of herself the occupant of the archaic throne 
smiled ; it was as if the spring sunshine had passed for 
an instant over a glacier-bound region. The young man 
was charmed. 

“Forty!” he ejaculated sadly, pursuing his pleas- 
antry. “And I am but twenty-two, or, at most, twenty- 
three or four; it depends on my exact age when they 


54 


THE RED LANTERN 


picked me off the bund at Shanghai. I fear I must 
seem very immature to you?” 

He looked anxiously at her as if awaiting encourage- 
ment from one of advanced years and dignity before 
venturing to continue the conversation. Her brows con- 
tracted in a slight frown, rebuking her late smile. This 
banter was scarcely to her taste; but the man, himself, 
she felt, was not to be lightly waived aside. 

‘‘We have a saying here in old China,” she said pre- 
cisely, “that one thread does not make a rope, nor one 
swallow a summer. Therefore, I try to form no hasty 
judgments of anyone.” 

She arose with a sort of finality which forbade his 
following, and moved towards the door. But already 
something was gone from her processional gait. There 
was a slight unsteadiness in her movement as of a 
woman conscious of being stared after. On reaching 
the sill she turned half way around. “Good evening, 
Dr. Wang,” she said, and passed out. 

Left to himself, Sam Wang usurped the throne with 
a laugh, tilting it back in an irreverent and perilous 
manner as he stretched out his heavy legs over a bench. 
He- laughed for fully five minutes after the young 
woman’s exit, as if struck by some idea inordinately 
droll. 

“Isis, or Diana of the Ephesians, leading a gospel 
meeting! Well, I can be her sacred Bull! A holy 
couple we’ll make!” 

But his hilarity spent itself as he continued. 

“Yes, the whole story comes back to me. . . . An 

old witch of a grandmother who demanded the sacrifice 
of the girl’s feet, and the child actually tried to cut 
them off to gratify the old lady’s whim. I remember — 
she let out the whole thing in her delirium after she was 
brought here. A capital tract for the Reverend Andrew 
Handel ! ‘ Example of Misguided Heroism, ’ sent to me 
with Christmas greetings by its author four years ago.’^ 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


55 


He grinned. the one tract I ever read, and in 

spite of its reeking odour of sanctity, the story itself 
made a vivid impression. I thought at the time, I’d 
come back here some day and marry that girl. God!” 
he exclaimed, his imagination suddenly fired anew, 
^ ‘ what consummate nerve or nervelessness 1 Only a true 
Asiatic could have done it. Yet if I’m not much mis- 
taken, she has all the intelligence of some damnable 
white father in her, too.” 

His eyes roamed about the room, glittering with some 
inward pleasure. Then they rested on the scriptural 
scrolls hung to the walls and instantly flamed with a 
new light. 

“We’ll celebrate our home coming by getting rid of 
some of this rubbish,” he said, and rising from his chair 
began to jerk the scrolls down rudely from their nails 
and stufl them without more ceremony into the earthen- 
ware stove where they were at once in bright conflagra- 
tion. Then he extinguished the lamp with a puff from 
his nostrils, that he might better enjoy the flames. In 
their flare his face showed uncouthly like the rude enor- 
mous features of some primitive sculpturing splashed 
over with ruddy paint. 

“My day is not lost,” he mused. “It is a good be- 
ginning. Would that I could so easily make a bonfire 
of all their Holy Scriptures!” 

Then something like remorse may have touched him in 
thinking of his benefactors. 

“Gratitude ! gratitude !” he muttered as if haunted by 
the sound of a foreign word, the sense of which escaped 
him. ‘ ‘ It must be for higher breeds than mine ! I hate 
them all, — the ones who have been most kind, most of 
all!” 

He turned in the shadows towards the ebony arm- 
chair, and the hate in his eyes died out. “But she” 
his face took on a sudden sobriety, “is my own kind, — 
in our veins the same two discordant bloods of East and 


56 


THE KED LANTERN 


West forever in secret and deadly feud/’ Then he 
broke into half whimsical exultation. ‘‘Mahlee! Mah- 
lee!” he exclaimed, ‘‘mysterious, ambiguous name!” 

He approached more closely the vacant throne and 
made an exaggerated salaam. “Great is Diana of the 
Ephesians!” he cried. 


T T was now more than four years since the Eurasian 
girl, Mahlee, had been carried unconscious on the 
back of the Ya-bah to the Ark of the Covenant Mission. 
What deep instinct had then prompted the dumb man 
to take his burden straight into the little nursery bed- 
room of Pearl, child of the missionaries, who had gone 
but lately to find ‘ ‘ home comforts ” in a boarding school 
beyond the seas, leaving the hearts of her parents deso- 
late ? He had laid the girl on the child ’s bed, and with 
a long anxious look, had discreetly withdrawn. How, 
indeed, might a Ya-bah speak of love to his beloved? 
But the missionaries had found her there, and with that 
charity which vaunteth not itself, but touched with deep 
pity for human suffering, ministers to it gladly and ten- 
derly, they had nursed the young girl whole again from 
her self-inflicted wounds. 

At first she had been delirious with pain, and had 
called plaintively for her old grandmother. But in a 
few days she regained her full consciousness and smiled 
a strange oblique smile from narrow eyes at Mrs. Tem- 
pleton, who came to her bedside. Then she asked trem- 
ulously for news of Madame Ling, and when she learned 
that the old woman was dead, she turned her face to the 
wall and so remained for a long while mute and motion- 
less. Indeed the only words she ever said about the 
matter were in regard to the two jade bowls. 

“I must put them in the coffin with her,’^ she was 
heard to whisper. ‘‘She could not sleep in peace with- 
out them.” 

She accepted at once, but with a curious silence, the 
new faith presented to her by the missionaries. In 

5T 


58 


THE RED LANTERN 


truth, in this first crucial contact with the foreign race 
— the great white race of her paternal ancestry — she 
appeared strangely docile, receiving without question all 
that was taught her with the submissive willingness of 
one come back at last to her birthright and ready to be 
instructed in regard to it. 

Thus it was that she embraced Christianity, less as a 
religion of the heart than as a necessary factor in the 
new racial career into which she seemed to be purposely 
and consciously entering. 

But she delayed the ceremony of her baptism until 
she had concluded with punctilious piety all the heathen 
rites connected with her grandmother’s burial. Ac- 
cording to the old dame’s wish, her wizened body was 
embalmed and lay in state in its coffin for some weeks 
previous to its interment. After the lapse of this time, 
Mahlee had sufficiently recovered from her wounds to 
attend the obsequies, which in spite of the extreme pov- 
erty of the household were conducted with no little 
pomp. Indeed, Yang-Ling, the coffinmaker, put a cer- 
tain professional pride into the occasion. He painted a 
red dragon on each side of the new coffin as a last touch 
to its beauty, and hired a dozen mourners dressed in 
white cotton garments and carrying gaudy silken ban- 
ners to wail in the funeral procession. So Madame 
Ling, arrayed in purple and scarlet, with the priceless 
jade bowls cushioned in folds of silk beside her, was 
laid to rest in an old burying ground outside the city, 
with the painted dragons as body guards to scare away 
any too “dominant influences” which might have been 
inclined to disturb her repose. 

Mahlee, looking strangely gaunt in her white mourn- 
ing robes, came back to the Ark of the Covenant and 
was baptised immediately into the Christian Church. 
Now, after less than five years’ residence, she was rec- 
ognised as one of the most active and valuable assistants 
in the mission. 


THE AEK OF THE COVENANT 


59 


She had in some measure taken the place of the child 
Pearl in the house in the Court of Lilacs, where she oc- 
cupied the child’s old room and was treated almost as a 
daughter by the Templetons. At first, it is true, they 
had put her in the mission school for Chinese girls, but 
she was not there three days before she rebelled. 

“Let me stay in your house and learn English and 
become a foreigner like you, or else send me back to my 
old home in the coffin-yard,” she demanded imperi- 
ously, although with lips which quivered. The mis- 
sionaries, lonely in the absence of their own child, at 
once consented to her staying with them. It is probable 
that they understood the reason for Mahlee’s discontent 
at the school, although the girl gave none. She was not 
a person to state her reasons, yet once her eyelids lifted 
angrily and she said: “I am better than they! I am 
stronger and ’more intelligent than all of them, — puny 
little slaves I ” 

Had the old twits and gibes which she had had to suf- 
fer all her life from her heathen relatives in the coffin- 
yard renewed themselves among the native girls at the 
mission ? Her new guardians, of tender hearts and con- 
sciences, appeared to feel, at least, an almost personal 
responsibility towards this poor child outraged in her 
very birth by one of the white race. The kindness they 
lavished upon her seemed impelled by a desire to ex- 
piate their own guilt, as if they were in some way ac- 
countable for the misdeeds of all those born under the 
flag of a Christian nation. The girl, in her turn, ac- 
cepted what was done for her as if it were her due, 
without demonstration either of gratitude or affection, 
yet with a never-failing courtesy towards her foster- 
parents. 

Of Mahlee’s intelligence there was no question. She 
learned rapidly, gaining in a few years a quaint famil- 
iarity with such books as she found in the mission, in- 
cluding the Bible, the Westminster Catechism, Fox’s 


60 


THE RED LANTERN 


Book of Martyrs, Milton, Shakespeare, and' a few stand- 
ard English novels. Besides her reading, she had reg- 
ular lessons with Mrs. Templeton in composition, history, 
geography and arithmetic, and later, was taught Latin 
and botany by Dr. Templeton himself. 

Although she never returned to the mission school, 
Mahlee was not without instruction likewise in Chinese 
literature and penmanship. The Ya-bah, or deaf-mute, 
who previous to his being picked up from the streets by 
the child Pearl and brought to the Ark of the Cove- 
nant, bore the proud title of “Most Eminent Scribe, 
Poet and Ambassador of the Man-in-the-Moon. . . . 

Of excellent skill in sonnets, proverbs and epigrams, 
whether felicitous or ironic” — had become a general 
amanuensis in the mission. If his career w^ere more 
mundane than of yore, he had, at least, the distinct ad- 
vantage of being fed, clothed and sheltered in his later 
position. For the Man-in-the-Moon, made callous, no 
doubt, by his own etherisation, had taken no account 
whatever of the corporeal necessities of his Ambassador 
who, in reality, as poor street-scribe, was all but starved 
to death when the little girl found him. In the mission, 
outside his general duties, the young man had found 
time to give lessons in Chinese penmanship to Mahlee, 
whom he openly adored, so that under his silent tutor- 
age she learned to inscribe the marvellous old characters 
almost as exquisitely as did the Ya-bah himself. After- 
wards she read the “Pour Books” and “Five Classics” 
— Gospel and Pentateuch of all Chinese scholarship — 
with an old teacher wearing immense goggles framed in 
tortoise shell, who was employed for the newly-arrived 
missionaries in their acquisition of the language. 

But for all this learning, the girl was still unw^ed. It 
had been understood indeed that at eighteen — already 
rather an advanced age for a bride in the Middle King- 
^dom — she would marry the Ya-bah, This seemed to the 
missionaries a suitable match on the whole, in spite of 


THE ARK OP THE COVENANT 


61 


the young man’s affliction; for Mahlee was a silent spirit 
herself, and would have appeared more qualified than 
most young women to marry a deaf-mute. Then, too, 
both held an ambiguous relation to society. Moreover, 
the long and touching devotion of the Ya-bah to Mahlee 
— a most singular manifestation from a Chinese youth — 
seemed worth rewarding. 

But on her eighteenth birthday, when the marriage 
ceremony was to have taken place, Mahlee declared that 
she would not wed for another year. Being pressed for 
her reasons, she could give none. She seemed uncon- 
sciously waiting for some event. Two months later, the 
Ya-bah was stricken with an obscure fever, brought on, 
it was said, by neglect of food and rest. He died 
dumbly as he had lived. During his illness he was 
quarantined for fear of possible contagion at the mis- 
sion hospital for men which lay outside of the com- 
pound, so that Mahlee did not see him before his death. 

His few possessions, aside from his clothes, fell to her. 
These were notably a collection of pens and a fine piece 
of soapstone upon which the ink-sticks were rubbed. 
The two had often used them together during Mahlee ’s 
lessons in penmanship. She believed they would be her 
last keepsakes of her poor lover. But in clothing the 
body for burial, Andrew Handel, who cared for the 
Ya-bah in his illness, found in the lining of the young 
scholar’s best plum-coloured silk robe, which had been 
selected for his shroud, a number of folded papers form- 
ing a package of some bulk covered with the youth’s 
exquisite hieroglyphics. At frequent intervals on the 
sheets between the Chinese characters, the word Mahlee 
occurred written in English. So quaint was the effect 
of this, that the name had almost the air of being a 
cabalistic sign — the pass-word to some dumb and eso- 
teric region. It was, in truth, the key to the Ya-bah ’s 
soul! Seeing it, the young missionary discreetly handed 
the papers to Mahlee without further perusafi 


62 


THE RED LANTERN 


They were a sonnet-series inscribed to her, dating 
back to the day she had been brought into the mission 
on the Ya-bah’s back. The girl read them alone in her 
room, crying inconsolably over every separate sheet. 
But when she had read them all, she uttered a curious 
little ejaculation, half pitying, half ironical, and quickly 
folding them up into their original form, sewed them 
into the lining of a silken tunic of the color of ashes of 
roses which the Ya-bah had bought for her from a pawn- 
dealer in the same year in which he had purchased his 
own plum-coloured robe. Then she took the pens and 
ink-stone and wrapped them about with the tunic, mak- 
ing the whole into a package of as small a compass as 
possible, which she slipped into an old blue cotton bolster 
case, once belonging to her grandmother. This, she 
sewed up also, and going out furtively the night after 
the Ya-bah ’s funeral, buried it underneath a willow by 
the brink of a gold-feh pond, where she had many times 
sat in silent communication with her poor dumb lover. 
Had she loved the Ya-bah? She had never told him so, 
— indeed, according to Chinese custom that would have 
been unmaidenly — but for years she had accepted his 
devotion and had believed that she would eventually 
marry him even though she had once delayed the cere- 
mony. Was it then the romance of her life that she 
was burying in the old blue pillow-case, and only the 
whimsical moonlight playing about her lips which was 
responsible for the semblance of that stealthy smile as 
she knelt and patted back the last clod of earth to its 
place ? 

Certainly she never expressed in words any remorse 
for not having married the Ya-bah when she had prom- 
ised, nor except at the reading of the sonnets, did she 
ever weep for him. Yet a change of some sort was ap- 
parent in her from the hour of her poor lover’s death. 
The moods of fierce melancholy — a sort of impersonal 
vindictiveness at the injustice of her fate — which had 


THE ARK OP THE COVENANT 


63 


hitherto beset her at frequent intervals, suddenly left 
her entirely. Andrew Handel, noting the change, wrote 
to his mother in Vermont that the Eurasian had, at 
last, ^‘experienced the new birth,” — something more 
profound, it would appear from his description, than 
the ordinary conversion of a Chinese heathen, “causing 
in her case a mystic transformation of countenance and 
mien almost like that imaginable in a metempsychosis.” 

‘ ‘ The Temple of the Holy Ghost ! The indwelling 
Christ!” he exclaimed at the close of the letter, rejoic- 
ing greatly, although somewhat awesomely, at' the 
“growing unearthliness of the girPs face.” 

It was at this time, indeed, that the young divine was 
struck by Mahlee’s resemblance to a certain masterpiece 
of the late Byzantine school which he had in his posses- 
sion. The picture, a Madonna Enthroned, had de- 
scended to him with two or three other valuable relics 
from a defunct uncle, a famous missionary in Syria. 
Yielding to a singular impulse he presented it to the 
girl, commending it to her as a worthy pattern of virtue. 

She hung the picture beside a mirror in her room, and 
thenceforth made it an object of almost Buddhistic 
adoration. She seemed, indeed, to mistake the crude 
formality of the old Christian art for that ideal of im- 
mobility which she had as blood heritage from her 
. mother’s people. "Was there in her still superstitious 
brain some idea of winning merit in Heaven by accentu- 
ating a fancied resemblance to its queen? Did she per- 
haps dream of thus expiating the sin of a broken prom- 
ise, or of a yet more subtle guilt, — that exulting sense 
of escape — which had thrilled her involuntarily at the 
first tidings of her obscure lover’s death? Possibly it 
was a line from one of the buried sonnets, — ^the last 
written, it would seem, from the fresh appearance of the 
paper and ink, which was haunting her memory like tha 
echo of remorse. 

*‘Thou, too, hast made me an outcast and a mute.” 


64 


THE RED LANTERN 


However tliis may be, she certainly made her cult 
as painful as a penance, laboriously schooling her fea- 
tures and expression to accord more exactly with those 
of the old Byzantine masterpiece beside her mirror. If 
Christianity had been known to her in its Roman Cath- 
olic form, it is possible that Mahlee would have taken the 
veil at this time, and prostrated herself ever after at the 
feet of the blessed Lady of Heaven. But having been 
instructed in the Protestant faith, she was obliged to 
invent, as it were, a special Maryolatry of her own. 

Under the influence of the Byzantine model, the girl’s 
perfect natural grace, ^‘like the poplar and the willow in 
the wind, ’ ’ came to be felt by her as a serious menace to 
her spiritual advancement, which must be combated at 
every instant. Yet it was only after more than twelve 
months of rigid self-discipline that Mahlee had attained 
to that degree of archaic stiffness essential to her concep- 
tion of the Mother of God. 

Andrew Handel, watching the girl with ascetic sym- 
pathy touched by curiosity, wrote again to his mother 
in Vermont. “The Eurasian’s countenance now shows 
a sort of rapt passivity, which may at a given signal 
flame into the passion of a martyr or relapse to the com- 
plete immobility of a monolith graven with indecipher- 
able ideographs.” 


F rom the meeting so rudely disorganised by Sam 
Wang’s entrance, Mahleo had gone straight to- 
wards her own bed-chamber. In the hall before her 
door, she met Mrs. Templeton, a noble-looking woman 
with beautiful maternal hands and a broad calm brow 
above discerning eyes. She told Mahlee that a dispatch 
had come from Tientsin, stating that Dr. Wang would 
arrive in the mission between eight and nine that even- 
ing. The girl received the tidings without remark. 

‘ ‘ Less than an hour now, ’ ’ said the missionary ’s wife. 
*‘It is well, dear, that you are back early so that you 
can help me prepare a little supper. Dr. Wang will 
probably be hungry, and since Andrew is away, he will 
come here to-night.” She passed on with some haste. 

“Please come to the dining room as soon as you can,” 
she called back as Mahlee entered her room. 

The girl assented; but once alone, she lighted a can- 
dle and placing it upon a chest of drawers below a small 
mirror, began a deliberate scrutiny of her image in the 
glass. For the first time within a year, the placidity of 
her countenance had been disturbed. The serene blue 
of her eyes beneath the heavy oval lids was clouded, 
and those sensitive nostrils of hers which she had tried 
so hard to get under control, were fluttering, so that in 
the dilation they showed like rose-petals. 

Mahlee looked with alarm at these symptoms. What 
had happened to her? Was it possible that this insolent 
Dr. Wang had power so quickly to upset her equilib- 
rium, — to render her long-cherished attitude ridiculous? 
— that attitude which, as she knew, had impressed An- 
drew Handel to the point of awesome thanksgiving for 
5 65 


66 


THE RED LANTERN 


the great miracle of grace manifested in her. To re- 
assure herself, she opened one of the drawers of the chest 
and drew from its depths a letter. It bore the heading 
C , Vermont, and was inscribed in a slender perpen- 

dicular hand to ‘‘Mahlee, the Eurasian, Ark of the Cove- 
nant Mission, Peking, China.’’ The girl now held it 
towards the candle and scanned it curiously. It ran in 
a series of ecstatic crescendos of praise for ‘ ‘ That mighty 
Act of Redemption and Sanctification wrought in your 
soul by the Grace of Our Blessed Lord, recently testi- 
fied unto in an epistle of my dear son Andrew. ’ ’ 

When she had read it to the end, Mahlee slowly put 
the letter back into its envelope. For the first time in 
her many perusals of it, it had failed to awaken any 
answering self-satisfaction in her breast. Instead, it 
now humiliated her strangely. And yet to be more 
worthy of the admiration expressed in that letter, and 
of its counterpart so plainly visible in the pale eyes of 
Andrew Handel whenever they were turned towards 
her, she had spent months in subduing her unruly mem- 
bers to the utmost rigidity compatible with any move- 
ment at all, so that her bones had come at last to seem 
petrified within her. And in measure as she felt these 
bones and sinews growing inflexible, she had gloried as 
at a celestial triumph, coming in moments of special ex- 
altation even to figure herself as, finally, at the Last 
Judgment, seated on the right hand of the Queen of 
Heaven in statuesque immobility, unmoved alike by the 
shrieks of the damned, or the hallelujahs of the re- 
deemed. 

Doubtless it was her long line of Buddhist ancestors 
that had transmitted to Mahlee this singular ideal of 
holiness, — this state of perfection in which the attainer 
becomes like the idols of silver and gold, those ancient 
butts for the Psalmist’s scorn. ‘‘Wlio have mouths but 
they speak not; eyes have they but they see not; they 
have ears but they hear not; noses have they but they 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


67 


smell not; they have hands but they handle not; feet 
have they but they walk not ; neither speak they through 
their throat.” Certainly, up to this hour, some such 
notion of absolute passivity had appeared to the Eu- 
rasian girl as the supreme goal of her spiritual achieve- 
ment. 

But now her confidence in this rigid ideal was shaken. 
What had Sam Wang done to her that in less than ten 
minutes in his presence her transcendental vision had 
begun to dissolve ? In truth, it had needed the touch of 
ridicule passing over her but ever so lightly, to make her 
suspect that she was after all nothing more than a young 
inexperienced girl indulging in an absurdly childish 
pose. 

With an abrupt gesture, Mahlee seized the candle and 
threw its light on the Byzantine Madonna hanging on 
the wall beside the mirror. 8he had not changed ! 
There she was, long-eyed, ill-proportioned, with her 
stiff, methodically ornamented mantle and her preter- 
naturally elongated fingers just as she had left her less 
than an hour ago. Yet gazing at this strange visage of 
a past art, Mahlee perceived for the first time that her 
own imitation had been essentially superficial. For, in 
spite of the grotesque anatomy, the old Byzantine mas- 
ter had been able to put something rarely good and true 
into the face of his Virgin, so that she was even beauti- 
ful in her way, or showed, at least, a certain pathetic 
groping towards beauty in the soul of her creator. 

As Mahlee gazed at the picture, this subtle beauty 
penetrated her painfully. An odd expression crept into 
her face, as of a woman just recognising in another a 
dangerous rival. She flashed the candle-light again on 
the mirror to compare her own reflection with the 
painted image. Long and narrow, hooded in her black 
braids, she wavered in its depths like some spirit of an- 
cient Egypt, released after a five thousand years’ bond- 
age in sarcophagus and mummy wrappings. Yet she, 


68 


THE RED LANTERN 


too, was beautiful, — beautiful, aye, and mysterious; she 
knew it well! But who else was there to recognise her 
true beauty? 

Her heart gave a sudden ugly throb as she remem- 
bered the bold admiring eyes of Dr. Wang. There was 
one I No servile imitating of a Byzantine Virgin would 
be needed with him; no Christianising of her Pagan 
charms to please that man ! 

But the thought brought her no pleasure. She had, 
instead, a strong sense of revolt in knowing that this 
Sam Wang was of her own peculiar race, — that race 
without a nation, without genealogy, with no past to 
look back to with pride, nor future to give promise of 
glor}^, — a race like the Dead Sea with obscure sources 
and no outlet, destined to lie stagnant throughout the 
centuries. She felt already that she hated the man be- 
cause of this shameful consanguinity. 

No I her heart was on another quest. Andrew Handel, 
pale mystic, — what of him? A sudden troubled con- 
sciousness burned in the girl. To be great in his eyes, 
as he understood greatness, to subdue him by the cold 
and lofty beauty of holiness, had not this been the real 
meaning of her long endeavour after an exotic sanctity? 
She had told herself that she was expiating her sin to- 
wards her dead lover, and to some extent this had been 
a sincere desire ; but had it ever been really her deepest 
motive ? 

She recalled an old boast she had once made to Mrs. 
Templeton soon after beginning her English lessons. 
“Honourable teacher,'' she had said, suddenly drawing 
herself up to her full height and opening wide her heavy 
lids. “One day I shall be a great iai-tai (lady) — a 
very great tai-tai! Remember what I tell you!" 

That had been her ambition! — ^her inalienable birth- 
right, it had almost seemed, so strongly had it taken 
possession of her imagination. Now she began to recog- 
nise that it was this same old passion for playing the 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


69 


role of grande dame or tai-tai , — this time to impress An- 
drew Handel, — which had been at work under the dis- 
guise of her Maryolatry. 

And she had succeeded ! Did not the letter from Ver- 
mont testify eloquently to his admiration of her as a 
^‘lady rich in holiness.’^ How she had hugged that 
praise to her bosom and dreamed of still stranger 
things! Ah, theirs would be no carnal love! A new 
Dante and a new Beatrice, they would ascend together 
the rugged steeps of asceticism, to rest at last in some 
windless silent place above all passion and desire. A 
great tai-tai , — a very great tai-tai, seated in twin ma- 
jesty with the Queen of Heaven herself, and Andrew 
Handel there, to adore her through all eternity! 

Such had been the strange exalted dream of the 
Eurasian girl ; to realise such mystical ambition had she 
practised for more than a year her peculiar Virgin- 
worship. But now her long exaltation was suddenly 
gone. Sam Wang, and her own mirror, had done this! 
She turned again and gazed with angry cheated eyes 
upon the Madonna on the wall. So might jealous Isis 
have looked at mild Mary of Bethlehem ! 


iVI 


D E. WANG was already in the dining room when 
Mahlee entered, although she did not see him at 
once. The room was long and narrow with a high ceil- 
ing of paper and bamboo, and partitions of elaborately 
carved teak-wood which formed alcoves at both ends. 
The elegance of this woodwork and of the old palace 
walls covered with designs of gilded lacquer, now 
tarnished to a fine harmony of bronze shades, made a 
strange background for the nondescript shabbiness of 
the European furniture, — table, chairs, and cheap side- 
board, — used by the missionaries. A hanging lamp 
without shade threw out a rather garish light, from 
above the dining table in the centre of the room. As 
Mahlee came towards it, Sam Wang and Dr. Templeton 
stepped out from one of the alcoves where they had been 
talking. The younger man was dressed in a rough golf 
suit with a soiled flannel shirt in lieu of linen. Yet he 
wore his clothes with an air which suggested neither 
dinginess nor poverty. Kather, they looked on him like 
the shaggy unclean hide of some big animal. Upon his 
formal presentation to the girl by Dr. Templeton, the 
young man bowed with unblinking solemnity. She re- 
plied by a slight 'inclination of the head. 

“Dr. Wang has done himself and us much credit,’’ 
the missionary said to Mahlee in kindly explanation of 
this new personality. “In the five years he has been 
away, he has not only mastered the English language, 
but has graduated at the head of his class in his medical 
college in California, so that he is now ready to begin 
useful work on the mission field in place of our lamented 
Dr. Lyon. We are very glad to welcome him back.” 

70 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


71 


Sam 'VYang bowed again. hope I shall have a 
chance to redeem my past reputation here,” he said. 
“But I fear that is going to be a hard matter. I know 
already that I have not been forgotten by some of my 
old friends.” 

He glanced at Mahlee with an amused light in his 
eye. But she gave no sign of understanding his allu- 
sion. Dr. Templeton, also, looked blank. The truth is 
he had totally forgotten any deficiencies in Sam Wang’s 
past conduct; his was indeed a charity which thinketh 
no evil ; now he took the young man ’s remark as an evi- 
dence of humility which augured well for the future. 

“The welcome of old friends is always pleasant,” he 
said, “and yours should be especially warm when it is 
known for what purpose you have come back amongst 
us.” 

Mrs. Templeton entered at this moment. “Owing to 
the lateness of the hour,” she explained to Dr. Wang 
as they sat down at the table, “Mr. and Mrs. Parmelee 
and our ladies, Dr. Kennedy and Miss Dorn and Miss 
McGinnis, must postpone their personal greetings until 
to-morrow. But they all send you a most hearty wel- 
come back to the mission. ’ ’ 

Sam Wang smiled a little crookedly and looked at 
Mahlee. “The dear old Ark of the Covenant!” he ex- 
claimed with unction. “How rejoiced I am to be here 1” 

A radiant light shone from the deep-set eyes of his 
host. “We are all rejoiced, my brother,” he said with 
simple emotion, extending his hand across the table and 
closing it over Wang’s with a warm pressure. Mrs. 
Templeton’s smile reflected her husband’s delight. But 
Mahlee, who had caught Dr. Wang’s glance, clenched 
her long hands under the board and remained mute. 

“My only regret is that our dear Andrew is at pres- 
ent absent from the mission,” Dr. Templeton continued. 
“He has been off for an eighty days’ evangelising tour 
in Shantung and the neighbouring provinces, I know 


72 


THE RED LANTERN 


that he hoped to be back before your arrival, but his zeal 
often carries him far.’’ 

‘‘Yes, dangerously far in these times of such open 
anti-foreign sentiment,” said his wife, ‘‘and, as every- 
body knows. Shantung is the worst nest of malcontents 
in China. I shall be uneasy if he does not turn up to- 
morrow.” As she spoke, Mrs. Templeton handed a cup 
of chocolate to Dr. Wang. 

“Shantung, eh?” he queried, as he took it from her 
hands. There was a sharp note of satisfaction in his 
tone which sounded little like any echo of regret for the 
absence of his future colleague. Indeed, he had an air 
of pleased abstraction as he drained his chocolate at one 
draught, swallowing at the same time a sandwich which 
Mahlee passed him. With a look of disgust, but obedi- 
ent to a nod from her foster-mother, the girl put an 
entire plateful within his reach. 

But his hunger once appeased, Sam Wang showed no 
inclination to continue toying with his food. Indeed, 
he evidently regarded eating as an exercise which, al- 
though not unpleasant, was yet to be executed with mili- 
tary dispatch and then forgotten. For he now pushed 
his chair abruptly away from the table. 

“Excuse me,” he said, grinning at his own devasta- 
tions. “I eat rapidly and dislike camping about the 
crumbs. But pray finish, all of you.” 

Dr. Templeton, who had barely tasted his chocolate, 
looked slightly surprised; then, exchanging a glance 
with his wife, whose brow remained unruffled, quietly 
laid down his own cup, and proposed, since their guest 
had been refreshed, that they should all adjourn to his 
study where he had something which might interest the 
doctor. Sam Wang jumped up promptly and, glancing 
over his shoulder at Mahlee, offered his arm to Mrs. 
Templeton with a gallantry in odd contrast with his re- 
cent boorishness. The girl frowned with anger as she 
again caught the laughing impudence of his look. But 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


73 


she could do nothing but follow, since Dr. Templeton, 
charmed to imitation of what he mentally noted as the 
“excellent courtesy” of the doctor, offered his own arm 
to her. The gesture was not without a quaint awkward- 
ness. Indeed, this tall and gaunt old divine, with his 
deep-set eyes and grey hair hanging sparse and long 
over a magnificent forehead, could scarcely be called a 
genial man. The word has something too mundane in 
its character to describe the disinterested charity of the 
missionary. Grave and silent by nature, ordinary 
speech cost him a visible effort. One was even touched 
by a certain timidity in him like that of a child desiring, 
yet scarcely knowing how to please. His strange other- 
world aspect at such times was penetrated by a poignant 
charm. 

It was with this exquisite shy benignity that he ad- 
dressed his guest when they were again seated in the 
study. 

“In coming back from your American university I 
fear you may feel keenly the lack of books and instru- 
ments here for your work, although you have, no doubt, 
brought the most necessary ones with you. Fortunately 
I have on hand a first-class microscope given to me by 
an English gentleman who stopped with us a few days 
some months ago on a trip around the world, and noticed 
my rather idle habit of picking flowers to pieces and 
looking at them under a lens. It has just been shipped 
from London and is quite unnecessarily fine for my pur- 
poses. I shall be glad if you will accept it to be utilised 
towards more practical ends.” 

He drew a small packing case from under his study 
table and asked Mahlee to give it to the doctor. 

Sam Wang’s eyes snapped with pleasure as he took the 
box from the girl’s reluctant hands. He had long cov- 
eted a microscope and now accepted his host’s gift with- 
out the least hesitation. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I can make use of it,” 


74 


THE RED LANTERN 


The missionary was gratified. He went on to offer 
the young man the use of his library, in which, he ex- 
plained, with a smile. Dr. Wang would find, if not the 
very latest scientific literature, at least, the famous 
“Anatomy of Melancholy” standing in “sober state” as 
on Lamb ’s own shelves. 

Sam Wang accepted this offer as he had done the first, 
promptly and as a matter of course. He liked to read, 
he said, and often wanted other books besides medical 
treatises. Even the “Anatomy of Melancholy,” he 
agreed, might prove exhilarating after Gray ’s. He 
asked Mahlee if she had read “Trilby” which had “re- 
cently made such a hit in Europe and America.” The 
girl replied that she had never heard of it, whereupon 
Sam Wang laughed. 

“What am I thinking about! I ought to remember 
that weVe in China. ^The Romance of the Three King- 
doms’ with its triple heroes and seven-hundred person- 
ages should be about the latest thing here in fiction. 
What volume are you in now, may I ask ? ’ ’ 

Mahlee looked annoyed, and Mrs. Templeton seeing 
her displeasure answered for her. 

“Mahlee has given up reading novels, whether Chi- 
nese or English. She thinks she has better ways of em- 
ploying her time.” The missionary’s wife smiled her 
approval at this sacrifice of pleasure to duty. 

But the line of annoyance deepened in the girl’s brow. 
She felt with resentment that Dr. Wang was secretly 
enjoying himself at her expense. 

Fortunately, Dr. Templeton, seeing the girl’s embar- 
rassment, hastened to resume the conversation. 

“The author of the original ‘Record of the Three 
Kingdoms,’ ” he said, “was a noted scholar named Ch’en 
Shou, born A. D. 233, although the present Romance, 
founded on historical facts which occurred sixteen and 
a half centuries ago, owes its form and the position it 
occupies in Chinese estimation to a great genius, Ch’in- 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


75 


Shing-t^an, born in 1627, at the close of the Ming 
dynasty. But,’’ he broke off, noting a peculiar expres- 
sion on Sam Wang’s face, “I am probably giving you 
facts with which you are already perfectly familiar.” 

“I ought to be familiar with them,” the young man 
answered seriously, ‘‘since, in spite of my fun-making, 
they pertain to the most deservedly popular work of 
fiction in my own literature over which I pored for hours 
as a boy. Why ! ” he cried, turning to Mahlee and sud- 
denly waxing boyishly enthusiastic. “Anyone not like 
Hsia-hou-tun, one of the seven hundred personages who 
swallowed his o^vn eyes, must see what a great book 
that is! Do you remember Chang-fei, second of the 
three warriors ? I think I have the description by 
heart.” He broke off into Chinese. “He had the head 
and round eyes of a panther, a mouth like a swallow’s 
bill and bristles like a tiger. His voice was like the 
rumbling of thunder and his strength like that of a 
race horse.” 

Mahlee, recovered from her confusion, smiled disdain- 
fully. But the young man, transported by his own ap- 
preciation, did not notice her scorn. 

“And the still more doughty Kwan-Yun Ch’ang, now 
worshipped as Kwan-’ti, the war-god,” he continued, 
taking on in spite of his beardless state a strange re- 
semblance to the savage Mongolian hero as he again re- 
cited from the original in a deep sonorous voice. 

“He stood nine feet three inches high and had a 
beard two feet long. His face was brown like dates, his 
lips were like cinnabar, his eyes, the eyes of the red 
phenix, and his bushy brows seemed to invite silk worms 
to nestle there. Stern and lofty was his countenance, 
and his bearing awful and menacing.” 

“Bravo!” cried Mrs. Templeton, although inwardly 
shuddering at the aspect of cruel power that Sam 
Wang’s face had assumed during the recital. He 
seemed, indeed, like the war-god, Kwan- ’ti, whose 


76 


THE BED LANTERN 


hideous effigy terrorises native children when they are 
first taken to the temple to worship. "‘Can this man 
truly be a Christian who looks so much like the most 
fierce of the heathen divinities?’’ the good lady asked 
herself, and was immediately ashamed of her doubt as 
she saw the look of hearty approval in her husband’s 
eyes. He, incapable of imputing evil to anyone, praised 
Dr. Wang’s fine memory for the Chinese classics. 

“It will stand you in good stead in your missionary 
labours,” he said. “A man possessed alike of Oriental 
culture and Western science is rare, and cannot fail to 
impress the Chinese with the truth of any message he 
may present. I envy the power I foresee in you to win 
souls for the Master.” He ended almost wistfully. 
Sam Wang’s uncouth mouth twitched as if he had lis- 
tened to some delicate witticism. 

Mahlee alone had no commendation for the young 
man. “And you are proud to call that your litera- 
ture ? ’ ’ she cried as he looked to her after the others had 
spoken. There was an eager contempt in the question 
which nettled Sam Wang. 

“Certainly,” he answered proudly. “And what, 
pray, do you count as yoursf’^ He stressed the pro- 
nouns almost insolently. 

The girl ’s strange golden skin brightened as if touched 
by some inward flame. 

“The English literature is mine,” she replied 
haughtily, — “Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, — I care 
nothing for Chinese books. ’ ’ 

With the words, she excused herself and went back to 
her room, where, without lighting a candle, she immedi- 
ately undressed. Then, after saying her prayers, she 
crept in between the icy sheets of her bed, taking even 
more than her usual care — almost as if in defiance of 
some unseen person — to compose her limbs to the utmost 
rigidity possible, with hands folded above her breast, 
like an effigy on an old tomb. 


T3UT notwithstanding the decent composure of her 
body, Mahlee’s thoughts were far from calm. 
Why, after all, had she repudiated those old books which 
she secretly knew had once interested her profoundly, — 
the genius of which, indeed, seemed in some hours far 
more akin to her nature than anything she had ever 
read in English. In them was mirrored all that early 
life of hers, — that strange old Chinese life in the coffin- 
yard which seemed to be already receding indefinitely 
from her. The legends of gods and heroes, the quaint 
allegories, the thousand curious alchemistic receipts with 
their Yin and Yang, those mysterious dual forces con- 
trolling the elements of nature symbolised by the 
tiger’’ and ‘‘dragon,” all the stupefying demonology 
and geomancy of her Oriental ancestors, as well as their 
rich proverbial wisdom, which she had found in the an- 
cient tomes, had indeed seemed to her in the reading 
like twice told tales. For had she not long ago known 
their perfect epitome in Madame Ling, that terrible old 
grandmother of hers, now guarded in death between two 
blood-red dragons? 

Yes, she understood the Chinese writers well, — far 
better, in truth, notwithstanding her boast, than she had 
ever comprehended Chaucer or Shakespeare or Milton. 
But she resolved to read no more of them, to understand 
them no longer. Since he, — this other Eurasian whom 
she hated, — was evidently more the son of his Chinese 
mother than of his European father, she determined pas- 
sionately to prove the opposite truth in herself. She 
would henceforth be wholly the child of the “foreign 
mandarin” as Madame Ling had always called her 

n 


78 


THE RED LANTERN 


father. She would break the chain which kept her down 
to her obscure Mongolian levels. She would completely 
emancipate herself from the bondage of the past. . . . 

A servant went down through the hall carrying a 
lighted lamp. Mahlee, staring upward in the dark, 
saw the streak of light through the chink of the door fall 
athwart a small wooden tablet standing on a table as on 
an altar. It was the memorial which almost five years 
ago, in spite of her profession of Christianity, the girl 
had believed it her duty to erect to the memory of her 
grandmother. She had had the Ya-bah inscribe upon 
it, in matchless golden ideographs, the name of Madame 
Ling and her age, — “'the very honourable age of eighty- 
one years and six moons. And for almost four years 
after her baptism, Mahlee had worshipped the tablet in 
secret every night conjointly with the new Christian 
God. Mrs. Templeton, who knew of the girLs practice, 
had smiled in wise fashion and had in no way tried to 
interfere. It was only since the substitution of her 
Maryology that Mahlee had ceased of her own accord. 

But now, at sight of the tablet suddenly illumined, a 
thrill of superstition ran through her. The great Doc- 
trine of Filial Piety, that stupendous moral force repre- 
sented in China by ancestor worship, leapt into life in 
the girl. So irresistible was it, that before the light 
was gone, Mahlee had sprung from her bed and was kow- 
towing before the tablet. 

“Granddame! Granddame!’^ she cried. “Once I 
would have given my feet for you. Now would you have 
my soulf’^ 

She remained there prostrated for more than an hour 
after the servant had passed with the lamp, possessed by 
an indefinable anguish, the obscure battle of bloods hot 
and heavy within her. Visions of her unknown father 
and her equally unknown mother visited her. Some- 
times the former appeared like a devil, the generic title 
bestowed by native superstition on all foreigners, but 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


79 


now personalised in her fevered fancy as a real demon 
in swift and ruthless pursuit of that wan little shadow 
which she had once seen flitting up and down the long 
River of Souls. Again, he was a god, Jove-like in 
majesty, impersonal, removed, inaccessible either to the 
love or reproach of mortals like herself; and then her 
mother would seem like an Oriental Clytie or Oreithyia, 
whom for a moment the God had deigned to visit. 

Or, he became a great general, with military pomp 
and prowess in his bearing; or a statesman, astute and 
crafty ; or, again, he appeared to her as a rich and inso- 
lent city merchant, whereupon the face of her mother 
took on the abject look of an over-worked scullion-maid. 
Always she saw him as rich, powerful, and arrogant, 
and her mother, the poor little Yueh Woa, — ‘‘Moon 
beautiful ’ ’ — as Madame Ling used to call her, trembling, 
fading, and self-effacing before him — the merest dim 
wraith of a moon ! 

The battle within her seemed, in reality, but the duel 
between these two, the duel between them over herself, 
their child. Strangely enough, though, it did not seem 
an unequal contest, for all her father ^s power and 
for all her mother ^s feebleness. For behind each 
one was arrayed a whole dim host of folk, — dead, 
she knew, yet invested with a strange authority 
over the destiny of her life. Her Ancestors ! — 
Asiatic and European, from whose loins she had 
sprung, who had had an equal share in her making. 
Now, silently, in terrifying pale phalanx they drew up 
in rank after rank on either hand behind her parents. 
There, with dead eyes, they gazed at her, and with dead 
fingers they pointed, on the one hand, to the setting 
and on the other, to the rising sun. ... As far as the 
East is from the West — so they were beckoning her I 
And the force of their opposing gestures seemed to 
rend her soul asunder. 

Those behind her father were bold and powerful- 


80 


THE RED LANTERN 


looking. English lords and ladies they seemed, as she 
had read of them in novels, with the strong proud faces 
and the imperious gestures of those born to command. 
Many of the men were encased in steel from head to 
foot, with plumes waving gallantly from their helmets 
and drawn swords in their hands; while their ladies 
went silk-clad, with splendid white bosoms half bare, 
and snowy arms flashing with gems and gold. Behind 
these, she saw Saxon Kings and thanes, with Knights 
of the Round Table, and pushing on in the rear, fierce 
border chieftains, ‘ ‘ wolf -like men worse than the 
wolves. . . . Reddening the sun with smoke and 

earth with blood.” And still more dimly discerned, 
loomed the savage forms of old Teutonic Vikings, and 
Druid priests carrying branches of the sacred oak from 
the primeval forests of Britain. But there, in an im- 
penetrable jungle of wet woods and marshes over-run 
with wild beasts, her father line suddenly became 
lost to her sight. 

Far less brilliant, but immeasurably longer, was the 
file behind her mother. Ah, the unendurable importu- 
nity of those countless yellow faces gazing at her! — the 
patient and toil-worn hosts of them, who, bent-backed, 
without hope, without memory, beat out the nails for 
the coffins of their generation and then sank without a 
murmur into their own. Directly behind the shadowy 
form of her mother, she saw Madame Ling as on the 
day of the coffin-fitting, scarred and blackened by time to 
the semblance of a burnt-out cinder, yet with all the cun- 
ning of a fox in her old eyes. The cunning of a fox 
— yes! — but the endless patience, too, of the Chinese 
peasant, which all the craft and guile of ages cannot 
quite rob of its dignity nor the most grotesque super- 
stition spoil of its invincible pathos. 

“Girl, will you always be a cat treading on my 
heart?” She seemed again to hear the burnt lips 
speak, and those dim Generations behind, reaching back 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


81 


through measureless antiquity beyond the days of 
Abraham and Noah, took up the words in a long echo- 
ing wail. 

*^Girl, will you he a cat treading on our hearts?** 

With a cry, Mahlee sprang up from her knees and 
stumbled in the dark to her bed. She buried her head 
in the sheets to shut out the look of those dead eyes, 
of those countless yellow faces, — the sound of that long 
echoing wail. But as she became quieter she had a 
presage of some larger meaning in her vision, going far 
beyond herself to that final coming battle of the races 
for world supremacy. Who was destined to win in 
that contest? Would it be certainly those of the 
strong proud faces, the self-styled “ world-conquerors, ' ^ 
using slaves of steel and iron and steam to keep up 
their costly state? Would it be, indeed, without per- 
adventure of doubt, the Occident with its factitious, 
top-heavy, over-complex, social machinery, that could 
hope for victory on that day? Might not it conceiva- 
bly be, rather, that in this last terrific duel the do- 
minion should fall, not to her father X but to her 
mother ^s, race, and those kindred to it, to the so-called 
feebler, rice-eating peoples on the vast plains of Asia? 
Surely if abundant fertility in reproduction with the 
unlimited capacity of self-denial and almost unimagina- 
ble patience, count for anything with nature, it might 
well seem that that great Dame herself had already 
taken sides with the East against the West! 

A vague premonition of some stupendous disaster 
possessed the girl. She shuddered in inward revolt, 
and falling asleep at last, dreamed that she was a cat 

treading on a million hearts! 

6 


yiii 


S AM WANG, lying heavily in the guest bed on the 
other side of the hall from Mahlee, was not vis- 
ited by his ancestors nor troubled by fears of catas- 
trophe. In fact, had his night been disturbed by any 
such vision of calamity overtaking the Western na- 
tions, he would have greeted it with exultation, followed 
by the prayer that he should himself become an agent 
in its speedy realisation. For he had frankly thrown 
in his lot with his mother ^s race without reservation or 
any looking backward. 

The man’s antecedents were obscure enough. It was 
rumoured that his father was a British sea-captain, a 
bad and daring character, who, turned river-pirate, 
had robbed the Imperial junks plying the Yangtsikiang. 
But all that seemed really certain was that Sam had 
been found as a child of four or five wandering about 
the “bund” or quay at Shanghai. Unable to give any 
account of himself, except that he was hungry, that his 
name was Sam Wang, and that his mother “had gone 
off in a junk,” he had been placed in a “Home” for 
Eurasian children where he had remained until his 
twelfth or thirteenth year, wearing an ugly brown serge 
uniform and learning heterogeneous facts of life from 
his companions who, for the most part, had never seen 
their fathers, and whose mothers had apparently “gone 
off in a junk” in company with his own. Then to 
make room for others in the over crowded “Home,” a 
number of boys had been sent to Peking and distributed 
among the mission schools for Chinese lads in that City. 
It was thus that Sam Wang and two of his Shanghai 
cronies, Sing and Chung, came to the Ark of the 

82 


THE ARK OP THE COVENANT 


83 


Covenant Mission, where they at once became famous 
as the Devil’s own Triplets. Strongest and most dar- 
ing of the trio was Sam Wang himself, whose conduct 
was not only outrageously lawless, but often marked 
by fierce insolence towards his benefactors. But thanks 
to the influence of Dr. Templeton, his outbreaks had 
been excused again and again, and he had been allowed 
to finish his course. Then he had gone over the seas 
to study medicine, and now, after five years in the 
land of the foreigners, he was again in the mission, 
come back, as Huang-ma had said with sarcastic em- 
phasis, to “cure the sick and expound the Gesu-words.” 
But as the old crone surmised, Sam Wang’s real pur- 
poses were somewhat less godly. 

Already decided as to what camp he should follow 
before he w^ent to America, his five years in that coun- 
try had only strengthened the hostility he had always 
felt for the white race in spite of the abundant favours 
he had received all his life from the missionaries. Ugly 
and brutal, yet with an astonishing lucidity and direct- 
ness of intelligence, the Eurasian had been both feared 
and scorned by his classmates in the medical college in 
California where he had studied. He had the pro- 
digious Chinese memory, which never played him false 
in the acquiring and retention of scientific data, and 
with it, the rarer capacity for original research. And 
his execution in surgery was from the beginning amaz- 
ingly rapid and accurate. One reason for this skill 
was doubtless his life-long practice of sleight-of-hand, 
learned as a young lad in Shanghai from a Chinese 
juggler at the cost of half a taow (five cents) a lesson. 
The boy had obtained the necessary money by pawning 
his undergarments provided for him semi-annually by 
the “Home,” and had spent it thus to win the admira- 
tion of his comrades, who regarded him as a veritable 
miracle-worker. How easy to go shirtless if by doing 
so one might learn the trick of swallowing a sword 


84 


THE RED LANTERN 


without choking! Now his trained and powerful 
hands played over human flesh and sinew with magical 
swiftness and surety, making of the surgeon’s art a 
true jugglery amazing to those who beheld it. 

But his aggressive manners, and his constantly re- 
iterated boast that he was a thorough Chinese in his 
sympathies, (although his mixture of race was gen- 
erally known) were hardly calculated to make him be- 
loved in a state which was first to forbid Chinese im- 
migration, and where the Oriental question is ever hotly 
agitated. It was not strange that Sam Wang soon 
made himself a conspicuous target for the oblique shafts 
of this animosity among the young Americans who 
studied with him, although not even the boldest of 
them had ever dared to attack him openly. Formidable 
enough, certainly, was his scowl, with the drawing to- 
gether of brows as bushy as those of Kwan-Yun Ch’ang 

which seemed to invite silk-worms to nestle there,’’ 
and an under-glowering of eyes, small, divergent, and coal 
black, ‘‘with the light of hell-pits in them,” as one 
testified who had come off worsted in an altercation with 
the redoubtable Eurasian. 

Yet in spite of the outward respect which he took 
care to inspire, the young man had suffered more than 
might be supposed from this under current of hostility. 
For he had the sensitiveness of the young and strong 
who feel themselves unjustly handicapped by an in- 
ferior social or racial position, — a sensitiveness which 
easily turns into resentment, and from resentment, al- 
most inevitably into violence. 

So it was with a soul full of rankling bitterness that 
Dr. Sam Wang at the end of his course, had set sail for 
the Middle Kingdom, now definitely adopted by him, 
if not in strict parlance as his “fatherland,” at least, 
as his homeland. In coming back he had but one well- 
defined ambition. By the help of God or the Devil, he 
would banish every foreigner from China. 


THE ARK OP THE COVENANT 


85 


With this holy motive in heart, and desiring to ob- 
tain a base for operations, he presented himself by 
letter to a certain Board of Foreign Missions in the 
city of New York as candidate for the position of 
medical missionary at the Ark of the Covenant Mission 
in Peking. Being piously worded, if not so conceived, 
the young man’s letter won for him a prompt accept- 
ance ; and he was sent out to the field in this spring 
of 1899 when, as has been seen, Mahlee’s sanctity was 
in its full flower. 

It was at the thought of this sanctity, or rather of 
how he had troubled it, that Sam Wang now laughed 
in his bed as he had laughed before that evening. It 
tickled his fancy to see in his ‘‘bride-elect,” as he al- 
ready mentally designated Mahlee, a model of piety, 
although he was no less pleased to feel the beginning of 
its quick disintegration under the light keen touch of 
his ridicule. Here was surgery to his taste ! Better than 
the cutting into flesh and sinew was this swift incision 
into the complex tissue of a girl’s soul. Delicate tenu- 
ous fabric wounded by a pin-prick, yet withal amaz- 
ingly resistant ! 

The man’s big heart began to throb with the delight 
which he had always experienced on the eve of some 
especially difficult operation. He would have her, if 
he had to cut her soul in two and send one-half after 
the foreigners whom he had vowed to banish from 
China ! 

Yet to do him justice, even for such savage vivisec- 
tion as this Sam Wang believed he had the needful 
balm. Deeply impregnated with Oriental fatalism — 
the only religion he possessed — he had instantly at sight 
of the Eurasian girl persuaded himself that destiny 
had appointed him to be her rightful master. So that 
considering merely Mahlee’s own happiness, the quicker 
her submission to him, the speedier would be her cure. 
And as he thought of that final submission of which he 


86 


THE RED LANTERN 


had never a moment’s doubt, the realisation of the girl’s 
present propinquity stole in upon his senses with almost 
unendurable fierceness. It was several hours before he 
slept. 


IX 


following morning after breakfast the mission- 
aries came in a body to greet their new colleague. 

“We are the committee of welcome,” Mr. and Mrs. 
Parmelee explained smilingly. It was natural for 
these two to conduct all the activities of life through 
“Committees.” Mr. Parmelee was a brisk man of 
athletic build who invaribly dressed even in the pulpit 
in an American business suit. His wife, a pretty 
blonde, wore her hair in a becoming pompadour and 
was always seen in a neat tailored “shirt waist” and 
skirt. Their interest in salvation was, so to speak a 
wholesale interest; one felt that they would have en- 
joyed “cornering the market” in souls. 

“Yes, welcome to our returned truant!” a rich voice 
echoed behind them. It belonged to Dr. Eliza Kennedy, 
a big boned, deep chested woman of middle age, strong- 
looking as a man, with curly grey hair cut short over a 
large head. Leaning on her arm was Miss Claribel 
McGinnis, a dimpled smiling creature of twenty-two or 
three, with little fat gesticulating hands and a bust as 
round as the breast of a pouter pigeon. She taught in 
the kindergarten department of the mission school and 
looked like her plump Chinese babies. Dr. Kennedy, 
who doted on her, used to say that it was lucky Claribel 
had not chosen a cannibal island as the scene of her 
missionary labours, as any savage with a sweet tooth 
w’ould have found her irresistible. 

It is possible that her co-worker. Miss Rebecca Dorn, 
a woman in her late thirties, who followed them, might 
have escaped such a fate in like circumstances; for 
although thoroughly devout, she was little suggestive 

87 


88 


THE RED LANTERN 


of anything sweet or succulent. She had a small head, 
triangular in shape, like that of a reptile, which was 
constantly jerked backward and forward on its neck in 
the spasmodic movement of St. Vitus’ dance. The Chi- 
nese school girls called her the “lizard.” Her mania 
was absolute correctness of pronunciation. 

Mrs. Templeton met the company at the door, and 
said with a smile that Dr. Wang was not up yet, but that 
she would send a servant to beg him to appear as soon 
as possible. She asked the friends to wait for him in 
the “parlour.” 

Mahlee had been playing on a small organ at the 
end of the room, but closed it as soon as the mission- 
aries entered. Indeed, she could never be induced to 
play before others. Andrew Handel, who was a fine 
musician, had given her lessons for several years in 
European music ; but left to herself, the girl had fallen 
to improvising weird incomprehensible strains in minor 
key, and would now play nothing else. She complained 
that other music hurt her. 

Claribel McGinnis went up to her eagerly, and began 
to ply her with questions about the new doctor. Was 
he tall? Was he handsome? Had he an air of good 
breeding and distinction? ^he secretly hoped that the 
report that he was Eurasian might prove a mistake. 
She was unwilling to believe it, although the name 
Wang certainly suggested Chinese blood. 

Mahlee replied with the listless indifference which 
a young Egyptian princess might have shown in dis- 
cussing a slave newly arrived from Ethiopia. She had 
not noticed any of his “points,” and could give Miss 
McGinnis no information whatsoever. 

The girl was dressed with even more severity than 
usual in a dark grey gown which fell narrowly about her. 
Her head, with its curious black coiffure emerged from 
the grey material like a fine piece of gold and ebony. 
She alone seemed in harmony with the dark coppery 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


89 


walls of the splendid old room which had once served 
as antechamber to the defunct mandarin, and where 
the present gathering of missionaries appeared fantas- 
tically incongruous. And certainly she formed likewise 
a most vivid note of contrast to that company. It was 
remarkable that, with the exception of her foster mother 
and Dr. Kennedy, the missionaries all seemed a little in 
awe of Mahlee. 

In her presence, Mr. Parmelee lost his brisk busi- 
ness manner and pulled his hands from his pockets 
where otherwise he was wont to store them when not in 
use. His wife invariably addressed the girl in her 
most formal society tone ; although afterwards she 
would say to her husband familiarly enough that she 
just longed to see Mahlee in a nice ‘‘up-to-date’’ tailor- 
made suit instead of those queer mediaeval drapes which 
she affected. ‘ ‘ She really has heaps of style, you know, 
if somebody would only tell her how to dress and give 
her a few Delsarte lessons to limber up her joints a 
bit.” 

Miss Dorn seldom spoke to Mahlee at all, and when 
she did, betrayed her nervousness by a more than us- 
ually exaggerated exhibition of St. Vitus’ dance. 

Miss McGinnis, equally ill at ease, smiled incessantly 
whenever she talked with the Eurasian, but always 
confided afterwards to Dr. Eliza that somehow — she 
did not quite know why — she thought she could never 
make Mahlee her “intimate friend,” — “I suppose she 
is awfully good, but she is just too uncanny!” was her 
awed comment, at which Dr. Kennedy would pat her 
pretty Claribel on the head and say: “Certainly, 
dearie, you are far more wholesome ! ’ ’ 

In truth. Dr. Kennedy, like Mrs. Templeton, gravely 
mistrusted Mahlee ’s religious fanaticism. She pre- 
, scribed cold baths and vigorous dumb bell exercise, and 
tried to joke the girl out of her sanctimoniousness by 
calling her “My little saint” before every body in the 


90 


THE KED LANTERN 


weekly mission meeting. Mahlee would lift her eye- 
lids a little at this, but invariably answer the doctor with 
grave courtesy, while Andrew Handel, approving her 
manner of rebuke to the older woman’s familiarity, 
followed her with pale admiring eyes. Even Dr. Tem- 
pleton, humble before another’s piety, mingled with 
his paternal gentleness towards the girl a touch of hom- 
age. 

As for Mahlee herself, the docility which she showed 
at the time of her first contact with the foreigners had 
long since been modified. And although she yearned 
more than ever this morning, after the night’s strange 
visions, to identify herself completely with her father’s 
race, she understood now that it was not the mission- 
aries who could instruct her in her real heritage. She 
felt that her father and his people must differ vastly 
from these good and pious folk; and in her innermost 
heart, she began to have some undefined contempt for 
their goodness as for something too akin to servility. 
No ! her father was not of this mild Christian stripe. 
She knew it by those hot strong forces of her own na- 
ture inherited from him. On that day her daughter- 
hood was eagerly recognising its allegiance. Again the 
duel was on; her own spirit strove on the side of her 
father. 

She noticed that morning, though not for the first 
time, the half-awed respect which she inspired in the 
missionaries. AVas it really because they thought her 
a saint, or was it the involuntary tribute they paid to 
her air of grande dame? She took it, in any case, as 
her right. By some paradox, she felt herself better 
born than these. In this high mood, only the fastidious 
Andrew Handel seemed to approach her in equality. 

If, indeed, she had made a cult of meekness, in her 
mingled remorse for the Ya-bah’s death, and her un- 
conscious passion for the young ascetic who had com- 
mended to her the lowly Virgin as spiritual model. 


THE AEK OF THE COVENANT 


91 


what infinite pains had it cost her! How hardly had 
she tamed by a thousand curbings the wild blood which 
leapt within her, until it seemed at times in danger of 
breaking through her veins and gushing forth like a 
cataract long pent up. 

And in spite of her utmost efforts, last night her 
own mirror had cried Hypocrite upon her; one touch 
of ridicule from a stranger had torn her sancitity to 
shreds, and changed her Virgin worship to a fierce 
mystical rivalry. She now waited breathless for the 
return of Andrew Handel. His face was defined be- 
fore her; high pallid brow shaded by ash-blond hair; 
eyes pale as opals, yet with the same fluctuating fire 
in them, — cold stones with hearts aflame ! And lips 
drawn fine as a thread of silk, but red — ah, how red 1 

Mahlee quivered with a new emotion. “Thy lips 
are like a thread of scarlet,’’ she murmured inaudibly. 

Truly the young divine would, on his return, have 
occasion to note a second interesting “metempsy- 
chosis.” She had determined to fascinate him still, 
though this time with other charms than the wan beauty 
of holiness. Mahlee had by now consciously pitted her- 
self against the Queen of Heaven! 

But ^she still clung to her severe dress and main- 
tained her archaic stiffness, half-consciously realising 
that to abandon her long pose too soon, would be an 
admission of Sam Wang’s power. If he had brought 
her to sudden self-knowledge, it had been by humilia- 
ting her keenly. Here, indeed, was one whom she could 
not awe either in her role of great saint or grand lady ! 

“Sam Wang, Eurasian like yourself!” She shrank 
again at the remembrance of his outstretched hand, and 
knew that she could hope for no mercy from his sense 
of that revolting equality between them. Yet she would 
escape from it ! Her long religious exaltation, in falling 
from her, had laid bare, first, her ambition, and then, her 
human need. In one way only could she throw off the 


92 


THE KED LANTERN 


bondage of her mother’s race. In one way only could 
she be happy. She knew now that she loved not as a 
saint, but as a woman. She must marry Andrew Han- 
del ! 


X 


TEMPLETON came in from his study, where 
he was translating the Book of Job into the 
Wen-li, to greet the missionaries. 

^‘Dr. Wang is weary from his journey, and so has 
protracted his rest; but doubtless he will appear in a 
few moments,’’ he said as he entered. ^‘Ah, we are 
all here save Andrew. Our new brother will be grati- 
fied by this welcome.” 

There began a general conversation in which the 
missionaries spoke with anxiety of Andrew Handel. 
It appeared that he had intended to pass through I 
Chou Pu and Yen Chou Fu, centres of two prefectures 
in Shantung, said to be the birthplace of the dangerous 
sect known as the I Ho Ch’uan, literally, ‘‘Fists of 
Righteous Harmony,” also called the Great Sword So- 
ciety, which had for its avowed object the extermina- 
tion of every foreigner in China. 

They knew Handel meant to go to the northern part 
of the province of Kiangsu, south of Shantung, where, 
in this spring of 1899, famine was so extreme that re- 
ports told of starving people who were selling their 
children for prices ranging from fifty to a thousand 
cas}i. But no letter or message had been received from 
the young man himself since his departure more than 
two months ago ; and now came rumours that this whole 
territory, including not only Kiangsu but the contigu- 
ous parts of Shantung and Anhui, was in a ferment, 
with robber bands roaming at will over the country 
and political intrigue at its height. In this region of 
famine and rebellion, the popular hatred of the “for- 
eign devil” manifested all over China by a half cen- 

93 


94 


THE RED LANTERN 


tury of anti-foreign riots and virulent anti-foreign 
propaganda — outbreaks which followed each new ter- 
ritorial and commercial intrusion — was now of a po- 
tency which augured illimitable mischief for the fu- 
ture. Here the Great Sword Society with its 
watchword Mieh Yang, “Exterminate Foreigner/’ had 
already organised encampments in many counties 
where quantities of swords were being made, and where 
language highly threatening to all foreigners was the 
order of the day. 

It was the fear of these fanatics, already coming to 
be spoken of as “Boxers,” which caused the mission- 
aries to tremble for the safety of their absent colleague. 

“Andrew is probably trying to convert the Great 
Sword Society into a Young Men’s Christian Associa- 
tion, and won’t come home before he has got them all 
to join,” said Dr. Kennedy, attempting a facetiousness 
which she was far from feeling. 

“Yes, no doubt that would just appeal to him as his 
conscientious duty,” agreed Mrs. Templeton, but she 
scarcely smiled as she spoke. 

Indeed the missionaries were looking at each other 
very gravely, when Mr. Parmelee abruptly announced 
his intention of heading a small search-party on the 
morrow. “If he is not here within twenty-four hours, 
I shall take Li and Hsien and follow him up.” 

Mahlee, who had been listening intently, gave an 
involuntary gasp of relief. But IMrs. Parmelee turned 
pale ; then obeying some strong effort of her will, smiled. 
Her voice trembled. 

“You will need to take plenty of warm clothes for 
the journey, Morris.” 

“Yes, Minnie,” he answered in a tone of the tender est 
reassurance. 

“I shall go with you, Morris,” Dr. Templeton said 
quietly. But at this, there was a chorus of protests 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


95 


from all save his wife, who, like Mrs. Parmelee, first 
turned pale and then forced herself to smile assent. 

‘‘No, you shall not go a step with that cold on your 
chest,” said Dr. Kennedy, at which Mrs. Templeton 
suddenly looked ten years younger and beamed upon 
the doctor. Mr. Parmelee, also, firmly opposed the 
idea, so that in the end the old scholar himself reluc- 
tantly abandoned it. 

“If any one accompanies me, it should be Dr. "Wang,” 
said the younger man ; and then, drawing out his watch, 
made a gesture of impatience. “Ten o’clock! we’ve 
been waiting here more than an hour ; and I should 
have been at the boys’ school early this morning. What 
is keeping the doctor?” 

“I do not know,” answered Mrs. Templeton, ashamed 
for her guest’s tardiness. “I will send the boy again 
to his room.” She arose to call the servant. 

“It isn’t worth while,” said Mahlee quietly. “Dr. 
Wang left the compound three-quarters of an hour 
ago. ’ ’ 

“Left the compound!” cried everybody. 

“Yes,” said the girl languidly. “I saw him pass 
through the court.” 

“Gone! and we’ve been waiting here to welcome him! 
Mahlee, why didn’t you tell us?” exclaimed Miss Mc- 
Ginnis in a tone of almost tragic disappointment and 
reproach, while Miss Dorn’s face twitched with indigna- 
tion. But Dr. Kennedy burst into a melodious laugh. 

“Oh, the scamp!” she cried delightedly. 

“Scamp!” echoed her little friend, ready to cry. “I 
should call him a plain pig!” 

“And I should agree with you,” said Mrs. Parme- 
lee, drawing on her gloves. “Come Morris, let us go!” 

“Certainly,” replied her husband with the same in- 
tonation of polite disgust. 

The committee of welcome disbanded. 


96 


THE RED LANTERN 


‘H am very sorry for this,’’ said Dr. Templeton look- 
ing almost guilty and exceedingly shy as he followed 
the missionaries to the door. “Dr. Wang could not 
have understood, but he will doubtless be home for 
luncheon,” he added with unconscious irony, “and I 
am sure will be glad to see you then.” 

“Yes, do come back all of you, I am certain it is some 
mistake,” said his wife. But she, too, appeared greatly 
chagrined. 

Mahlee, alone, stood silent behind her foster mother 
with an odd smile on her lips. Through the open door 
she had caught a glimpse of Sam Wang, hidden behind 
a lilac bush in a corner of the court. 


XI 



64 A T last! I thought those confounded welcomers 
would never go!” The tone was the aggrieved 
one of a man whose patience has been tried to the ex- 
treme limit of endurance. 

Dr. Templeton had gone back to his Wen-li, and 
his wife to her morning catechism class for Chinese 
women. Mahlee, in the act of reseating herself at the 
organ, did not turn immediately at the voice. Instead 
she pushed in with deliberation some stops which had 
been left open; then, closing the keyboard once more, 
wheeled slowly around on her stool. Before she had 
fully faced him, she was conscious of Sam Wang’s bold 
eyes fixed upon her, almost pinning her, as if with some 
teasing intention understood by those who delight to 
transfix insects with a needle. 

Her anger burnished her cheeks to a brighter gold 
as she rose to her feet and lifted her own eyes defiantly 
to meet his. But to her surprise, as they gazed so at 
each other, the laughing impudence of his expression 
vanished ; it gave place first to admiration, then to some 
still softer emotion. 

“By God! Mahlee,” he broke out at last. “Don’t 
look at me like that. I mean you no harm, girl. I’ve 
simply come to share your isolation. ’ ’ 

The last words were so extraordinary that she flushed 
again. 

‘ ‘ Isolation ! What makes you think I am isolated ? ’ ’ 
she asked sharply! 

“Because your ease is my own. For the Chinese we 
lack the barbarous distinction of being genuine ‘for- 
eign devils,’ yet are too much tainted with demon 
7 97 


98 


THE BED LANTERN 


blood to pass as respectable natives; while for the for- 
eigners we are objects of secret scorn, or what is worse, 
of open pity, as being ‘neither fish, fiesh, fowl, nor good 
red herring’ as the saying goes.” 

Her anger hashed. “That is not true!” she ex- 
claimed. ‘ ‘ No one dares show me either pity or scorn. ’ ’ 
“Ah?” 

His tone was such an irritating mingling of both 
those sentiments that to keep herself from further re- 
tort, she relapsed into silence. Sam Wang commenced 
to pace the room, and Mahlee dropped again on the 
organ stool. In spite of herself, she began miserably 
to ask if Wang were not right — if beneath the respect 
which the missionaries showed her there were not a 
substratum of scorn or pity. Andrew Handel! His 
pity ! — She imagined it. And it was so poisonous that 
she thrust it aside vehemently. That could not be ! 
He was too great; his vision too spiritual for that. If 
he had failed to love her hitherto, it was because he 
had held her too high, and not too low: “a lady rich 
in holiness” he had said of her. But now it would be 
her sweet delight to show him that after all she was 
human. Without causing him too great a shock, she 
counted on gradually turning his adoration into love. 

She looked at Sam Wang, as he turned towards her, 
with a smile of self-imposed confidence on her lips. 
At sight of it, he halted abruptly ; he seemed to read her 
thoughts and at once to resent and defy them. His 
thick guttural voice vibrated. 

“One day,” he said, as if the conversation had not 
been interrupted. “You will realise the truth of what 
I have told you and then — ” 

“Then?” she echoed contemptuously. 

“Then” — His tone was almost a threat — “You will 
marry me.” 

He made no gesture towards her, but as he spoke his 


THE ARK OP THE COVENANT 


99 


enormous yellow face became suddenly suffused with 
blood and she could see the veins on his massive neck 
dilate. 

She stood for a moment as if she had not heard his 
words; then a shudder of sheer disgust went through 
and through her like a spasm. Marry him! It would 
be like joining herself to a Caliban, to that lower Mon- 
golian blood of hers which she would secretly have given 
all her hopes of eternal life to have emptied out of 
her veins so that not a drop remained to contaminate 
her. She drew an arm back in a gesture of abhor- 
rence. 

At sight of it, the colour receded from his face as 
suddenly as it had mounted, leaving his flesh like cold 
clay. 

‘ ‘ Oh ! ” he cried, ‘ ‘ My lady-saint thinks herself too 
good for me, does she ? And who may your father be, 
I pray, that you should give yourself such airs of flne 
breeding?’^ 

“My father is a gentleman, a foreign mandarin 
Mahlee flashed out involuntarily. 

An extraordinary look came into Sam Wang^s face. 

“A gentleman ! a foreign mandarin !” he drawled back 
in savage mockery. “A fine English gentleman, who 
employs his noble leisure in disseminating offspring in 
the slums of Oriental cities; who brings proud-hearted 
daughters into the world to live in Chinese coffin-shops ! 
Well,” he ended, looking at her with curious conviction 
almost more insulting than incredulous, “I believe you. 
May I inquire the honourable name and title of your 
sire ? ’ ^ 

The simplicity of her answer astonished him. 

“I do not know them,” she said. No boasts or pro- 
testations would have so instantly established her real 
superiority. 

Sam Wang’s tone of fierce banter fell from him. 


100 


THE KED LANTEEN 


He took a step backward as if to correct his late in- 
solence by maintaining the distance which he knew she 
desired. 

“Kuniang/^ he said with rude sincerity, “I have 
no wish to insult you. No doubt I have spoken too 
soon, but what I have said I mean. Your father may 
be a prince for all that I know or care. Mine, I be- 
lieve, was a river-pirate, — a rather more honourable 
profession than ‘gentleman,^ I take it; but on that 
point, w^e will not quibble. "Whatever our fathers have 
been or are, nothing is more certain than that we our- 
selves are Eurasian and what the w^orld terms bastards.’’ 

The girl shrank as if her flesh had been cut, but re- 
mained mute. 

Sam Wang, himself, felt that this was heavy surgery, 
and that it would be wise to proceed with more care. 

‘‘We are all- victims of heredity, implacable hered- 
ity,” he continued, assuming the tone of the man of 
science who speaks from the impersonal point of view, 
“and in our case, heredity takes the form of an inward 
hostility of alien bloods which refuse to mingle in our 
veins. It is as if the great Chemist had been trying 
new combinations and had not quite hit it. Our for- 
mula is somehow wrong. We are neither European 
nor Asiatic, nor are we properly speaking their sum. 
Rather we are each in turn battling fiercely against 
the other. Or to change the figure, as someone has 
said: Between the Occidental and the Oriental mind 
there is a great gulf fixed. Well, that gulf, that un- 
bridgeable abyss, is in us dividing these two natures 
forever. ’ ’ 

In spite of herself, Mahlee bent towards him. “Do 
you also feel that?” she asked curiously. 

“Feel it!” he cried with bitterness. “Have I ever 
felt anything else? Don’t you suppose that I, too, 
often despise the Mongolian in me, — treat him like a 
slave, a coolie, a dog of a Chinaman? But I won’t 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


101 


stand anybody else insulting him, for in my heart I 
know he’s the better man of the two.” 

“Of the two?” 

“Yes, the two that are in me, — the sons of my father 
and of my mother; those quarrelsome twins who to- 
gether are called Sam Wang. Sam, of course,” — he 
gave a contemptuous wave of the hand, — “is the ar- 
rogant one of the pair, the conceited, talkative, emo- 
tional European: he has more wit, more of the flashy 
show-stuff, than the other; but Wang is the real man.” 

“And what is Wang?” 

At the question the big man straightened himself 
as at some challenge ; his eyes lighted and his ugly face 
was touched by an indescribable dignity. Mahlee who 
listened, felt that her maternal ancestors represented 
by that immeasurable line of dead yellow faces seen 
in her vision, had found a voice. 

“Wang,” he said slowly, “is the Chinese peasant. 
His home, named after him, is known as the ‘Village 
of Wang of the Iron Mouth,’ somewhere between the 
‘Great Melon Hamlet’ and the ‘Duck’s Nest of the 
Chou family’ on the banks of the Hoang-ho or the 
Yangtsikiang. Here, in a little adobe hut with earthen 
floor and smoke-blackened walls hung with rude plough- 
share and pruning hook, he has lived with his wife 
and his children, his pigs and his asses, since the 
dawn of history, in a struggle for existence silent but 
inconceivably intense. For in a country where a square 
mile must nourish from one to two thousand persons, 
even slight variations of weather often cause devasta- 
ting famines or floods, and in either case it means death 
to hundreds of thousands.” 

“And how has Wang escaped — survived?” asked 
Mahlee, now listening intently. 

“By luck and the absence of nerves,” replied Sam 
Wang, warming to his subject and falling into sonorous 
periods. “Ages ago he perceived that his nerves would 


102 


THE KED LANTERN 


be in his way, and stripped them from him as a runner 
does his clothing. So when the rains descended and 
the floods came, Wang and his wife were always found 
ready. With their children strapped to their backs, 
their plough-share and cooking pots trundled in a 
wheelbarrow, their pigs and their asses driven before 
them at the point of a stick, they fled again and again 
from disaster. But when the calamity had passed, they 
invariably came back to live and worship beside the 
graves of their ancestors.’’ 

Their ancestors! Yes, yes, I understand that!” 
Mahlee’s voice had lost its hostility; a strange light 
glowed in her eyes. ‘‘They could never abandon those 
graves. ’ ’ 

“No, and what’s more, they never shall abandon 
them,” cried Sam Wang with sudden energy. “Until 
Doomsday, itself, — up to the last generation of men, 
the world will see Wang rising early and toiling late 
on his little fields of rice and millet, by the graves of 
his forefathers. For he has been truly characterised as 
the ‘tireless, all pervading and phlegmatic Chinese,’ who 
is able to face with a ‘clear-eyed endurance’ unbe- 
lievable discomforts and evils. And it is this endur- 
ance, this infinite patience and industry and indomita- 
ble cheerfulness, which is the birthright of Wang, and 
which one day will make him conquer the earth.” 

There was such a look of primitive force in Sam 
Wang’s face as he ended, that Mahlee, in spite of her- 
self, gave a little cry of sympathetic admiration. 

“And is this man truly you?” 

Wang’s yellow skin flushed at the involuntary tribute 
of her tone. 

“Yes,” he said, “he is my true self — the self for 
whom I mean to fight.” 

“Against Sam?” 

“To the death! against Sam and all his damnable 
race. ’ ’ 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


103 


His violence at once brought back her old defiance. 

“If that is true/’ she said coldly, “we are enemies, 
Dr. Wang, since, as I have told you before, I count my- 
self one of the white race.” 

And, as if the interview were ended, she opened the 
organ again and began to play a brilliant passage from 
Mozart. Sam Wang looked at her and smiled with a 
sort of indulgence. He felt that he could afford to 
wait. 

“That is not the music you really like?” he said 
when she had finished. 

“How do you know what I really like?” asked Mah- 
lee haughtily. 

“I heard you playing this morning and it was like a 
call to my blood.” He whistled a low vibrant strain 
with an indescribable rhythm. 

She listened, startled; no one had ever attempted to 
reproduce her strange music. Forgetting her hauteur, 
she said critically: 

“That is not quite right.” 

Dr. Wang, standing behind her, grinned. 

“Show me how it goes.” He leaned over her, 
touching the keys, as if groping for the right notes. 

“It is this way,” said Mahlee. She began one of 
those weird incomprehensible strains in minor key 
which she had never before been induced to play in 
the presence of another. And as the barbaric melody 
entered into Sam Wang’s soul, his face took on a mar- 
tial aspect as of one secretly girding himself for a migiity 
contest. 


XII 


door opened without sound, and a man of 
about thirty entered. He wore a suit of linen 
clothes, stained and dusty from travel, which hung so 
loosely about his thin body as to present almost the 
appearance of a robe falling in folds. On his feet 
were shabby native shoes, and his hands, naturally fine, 
were roughened and tanned by exposure. He held 
one of them against a spot on his chest below his right 
shoulder as if to keep something in place. Beneath 
the dull blond of the hair, his face was pallid and his 
eyes unnaturally bright. 

For several moments, he stood looking at Sam Wang 
and Mahlee and listening to the girl’s music. His first 
expression was that of astonishment; then, as he took 
in more and more the quality of the music, he appeared 
to receive some indefinable shock. 

When, at last, he spoke it was in a tone almost of re- 
buke. 

“Mahlee!” 

‘ ‘ Andrew ! ’ ’ 

The word escaped her as she turned in a profound cry 
of welcome, accompanied by a swift upward parting of 
heavy eyelids like the sudden cleavage of a veil before 
some brightly lighted shrine. It was the first time she 
had called him by his Christian name and the effect upon 
him — with that dazzling look — was curious. There was 
an involuntary answering flash from his own eyes fol- 
lowed by a slow almost imperceptible recoil of his whole 
person. When he gave her his hand he said in a voice 
singularly restrained : 

‘ ‘ That is strange music you were playing, Mahlee. ’ ’ 

104 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


105 


Then turning from her at once, he extended his hand 
to Sam Wang in whose eyes Mahlee’s cry had lighted a 
new gleam. 

“Ah, Dr. Wang, you have arrived in my absence, I 
see. I had hoped to be here to welcome you, but I was 
captured by the Boxers in Shantung, and have had a 
narrow escape with my life.’’ 

Mahlee turned pale to the lips, but Sam Wang’s voice 
had an exultant note as he rose from his chair and re- 
turned the young missionary’s grasp with a pressure 
which was almost cruel. 

“Captured you, eh?” he cried. “Are they already so 
bold?” 

“Captured and held me for two months by order of 
the Governor Yii Hsien, ” continued Andrew Handel. 

‘ ‘ It was only by the mercy of God and the successful ef- 
forts of three men I had been able to save from famine, 
that my release was effected. Even then I was pursued 
— But, I must reserve my story for another moment,” 
he added, growing visibly paler, and pressing his hand 
more tightly over the spot below his shoulder, “as I am 
feeling somewhat fatigued at present.” 

He sank into a chair, and Mahlee caught sight of a 
blood stain between his fingers. 

“You are hurt, you are wounded!” she cried. 

At the deep concern in her voice the same singular 
flash shot from his eyes; and, as before, it was followed 
by that slight and slow recoil. 

“ It is nothing, ’ ’ he said. 

“Let me see,” commanded Dr. Wang, forcibly remov- 
ing the other’s hand. Instantly the place on the garment 
from which it had been lifted became saturated with 
blood and Andrew Handel swooned. 

“Oh!” cried Mahlee averting her eyes. Sam Wang 
tore open the missionary’s coat and shirt, discovering a 
clumsy bandage which was sagging badly. Lifting a 
corner of the cloth, he exclaimed : 


106 


THE RED LANTERN 


‘‘A sword- thrust, by Kwanti’s beard! Here, hold 
your hand over it, Mahiee, while I get some instruments 
and fresh bandages. ’ ^ He ran from the room. 

Mahiee, with one hand held tightly over the blood- 
soaked cloth, gently drew with the other Andrew’s head 
to her breast. She brooded over his white face with eyes 
full of passion, but all unconscious, and at her mercy as 
it lay, some fine pride held it sacred from her lips. Yet 
she kept his head shamelessly where she had drawn it, 
during all of Sam Wang’s manipulations of the wound, 
in spite of the Eurasian ’s ironic grin, more ugly and sav- 
age, if possible, than his scowl. 


XIII 


A NDREW HANDEL had a protracted fever. The 
wound had become infected and proved difficult to 
heal. Dr. Wang ordered the sick man to bed and gave 
him his untiring attention and best skill. He had even 
seemed to take pleasure in proposing to Mrs. Templeton 
that Mr. Handel be given a room in the house, so that 
Mahlee could be constituted nurse without shock to the 
proprieties. He said that it was a case which would re- 
quire intelligent watching on the part of the caretaker; 
and since Mrs. Templeton was occupied with other du- 
ties, he knew of no one to whom he would be more willing 
to intrust the service than to Mahlee. With an intelli- 
gence which in ordinary action was as direct as light- 
ning, Sam Wang had, also, a full measure of the Ori- 
ental’s cunning in matters where his passions were in- 
volved. Had he noticed and rightly interpreted the 
slight shrinking of the young missionary at Mahlee ’s 
too joyous cry of welcome? Did he already foresee a 
galling humiliation for the proud Eurasian girl? 

Certainly the irony of his smile deepened as he 
watched Mahlee ’s almost wifely bearing by the sick man’s 
bedside. She rearranged his pillows a dozen times a day, 
brought him his food and drink with her own hands, and 
culled fresh flowers daily for his room. 

Andrew, at first, could scarcely conceal his embarrass- 
ment; the expression of his gratitude was excessive; he 
begged her at each moment to spare herself such un- 
necessary pains, saying that he could ‘‘manage very 
well” himself. But after Dr. Wang had informed him 
very soberly that he was far more ill than he believed, 

107j 


108 


THE RED LANTERN 


and must submit to being ‘ ‘ babied, ’ ^ he gave himself up 
to her care without more ado. 

In seeing Andrew once more, in caring for him so 
intimately, Mahlee ’s long subconscious passion blossomed 
like a rose. In its perfection even her mystical jealousy 
of the Madonna on the wall vanished. It was as if the 
strength of the new force within her had killed every 
doubt. She did not fear Andrew’s asceticism. Every 
movement, every gesture, betrayed her new hope. In 
her exalted conception of the young missionary ’s nature, 
she scorned to hide her tenderness. Coquetry and coy- 
ness were means of enticing trivial passions. Great love 
could only be rightfully won by great love ! She dared 
not fail to show him that hers was indeed great. 

Some subtle influence seemed to be diffused over her. 
Never did she appear more wholly European, betray less 
the Asiatic, than in these days. Her heavy lids opened 
more frankly, more freely, showing eyes of limpid blue. 
Her voice took on a warmer timbre ; her laugh was vel- 
vety, low, and very sweet. And when she moved, it was 
with all her old grace, lissome and undulating “like a 
willow in the wind. ’ ’ No more apings of stiff Byzantine 
Madonnas ! She believed absolutely that Andrew would 
soon be hers. In truth, her impulse towards freedom 
and love, when once let loose, transformed to its own 
desire her idea of the young missionary. She was con- 
vinced that he, like herself, was inwardly (albeit per- 
haps still unconsciously) panting for joy. They had 
both sought for it on celestial heights and found it not. 
Now she would lure him down to the sweet levels of 
earth ; they would run hand in hand through green fields 
and find it in the smell of common leaves and flowers, 
in the warmth of everyday sunlight. 

And with these thoughts, she would gaze at Andrew 
when he slept, and smile in a sort of innocent volupte 
with fluted lips red as the heart of a pomegranate. 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


109 


Most of the missionaries in the compound perceiving 
this new change in Mahlee, believed that she had fallen 
in love with Dr. Wang. As Mrs. Parmelee argued very 
astutely, Mahlee had shown none of the “symptoms” be- 
fore the doctor’s arrival, “so it could not be Andrew/^ 
It was thought, indeed, that the sentiment was mutual in 
the hearts of the two Eurasians, and that Sam Wang had 
appointed Mahlee as Andrew’s nurse, so that he, him- 
self, as doctor in the case, might have an opportunity of 
seeing the girl more intimately than he otherwise could 
do. Mrs. Parmelee said sententiously that “ Mahlee ’s 
life problem would now be solved,” adding as an after- 
thought of secondary importance, “and for that mat- 
ter, Dr. Wang’s also. I do hope she’ll be able to teach 
him better manners.” Sam Wang had not been a fa- 
vourite with the ladies of the mission since the disbanding 
of the committee of welcome, but viewed as the solution 
to Mahlee ’s “life problem” he became tolerable again. 

“She really deserves someone better, though,” Mrs. 
Parmelee pursued the subject with her husband. “For 
she has shown during the past year a wonderful saint- 
liness. And sometimes, if I did not know that Dr. Wang 
had come out as a missionary, I could almost believe he 
was not a Christian at all.” 

Her husband, who had had more than once the same 
feeling in regard to Dr. Wang, thought it wisest to hold 
his peace. It was his wife who finished the conversation. 

‘ ‘ Ah, well, ’ ’ she said in a tone of musing pity. ‘ ‘ Poor 
Mahlee could hardly have hoped to marry a white man, 
so it is just as well she had fallen in love with one of her 
own kind, even though she is so infinitely his superior.” 

That was in fact the general opinion of the mission. 
Only Miss McGinnis said in a piqued way to Dr. Ken- 
nedy that she thought it “decidedly bad form on 
Mahlee ’s part to place herself in a position where she 
would see so much of both the young men.” She added 


no 


THE RED LANTERN 


casually that she would he quite willing, were she asked, 
to relieve Mahlee in the care of Mr. Handel for half the 
day, even though it would be a great trial for her to be 
thrown into the society of one so ill-bred as Dr. Wang. 
Miss Dorn, who heard her, rounded her prim lips for 
sarcastic utterance, when she caught Dr. Kennedy’s stern 
eye and desisted. But the next moment the latter burst 
into a laugh, herself, and kissed Miss McGinnis on her 
plump pink cheeks. 

“My sweet Claribel,” she said, “it is very clear that 
we must get you married soon, or you’ll be making a 
charming little fool of yourself.” 

At which. Miss McGinnis first pouted, then dimpled 
all over with shameless eagerness. 

“Do!” she cried, throwing her fat little arms around 
her friend’s neck. “Do get me married!” 

Mrs. Templeton, alone, divined the truth concerning 
Mahlee. She knew that it was Andrew Handel and not 
Sam Wang whom the girl loved. The matter gave her 
much anxiety, for she shared Sam Wang’s own sense 
(although without his exultation in it) of the almost 
certain humiliation in store for the girl. She would 
probably have insisted upon nursing Andrew herself, 
to have saved Mahlee from being thrown so intimately 
with the object of her passion, had not her husband, 
just at that time, required her care. He had come down 
with an acute attack of bronchitis the day after Han- 
del’s return and although he begged his wife to “go to 
our dear Andrew since it is obvious that he is the sicker 
man of the two,” she made up her mind quite rightly 
that her first duty was to her own, and scarcely left his 
bedside. But as the girl’s happy laugh fioated to her 
from across the hall where Andrew Handel lay, this kind 
foster mother prayed that if disillusionment and sorrow 
awaited poor Mahlee, she might be given grace to accept 
them nobly. 


XIV 


\ NDREW HANDEL had passed from his first feel- 
ing of embarrassment, to a sort of impersonal 
gratitude for Mahlee ’s care. His pale eyes had lost that 
look of half-adoring admiration with which he had fol- 
lowed the girl in the days when he had described her to 
his mother, as “a lady rich in holiness.’’ Now she 
seemed to him something less. Yet he was too ill to ask 
himself in just what the lessening lay. He only listened 
a little startled to the new vibration in her voice, and 
caught with something of an inward shiver, as he opened 
his eyes after sleep, that full bright gaze of hers, and the 
confident luxury of her smile. But he never failed even 
in his weakest moments to thank her gently for each new 
ministration ; and one day when he was again able to sit 
up in a chair he made her an almost ceremonious speech 
in which he praised her “excellent skill in nursing” and 
called her at the end, in a renewal of his thanks, “my 
kind young sister. ’ ’ The girl blushed vividly at this and 
thanked him gravely in return, yet seemed not wholly 
pleased. 

In the first letter that Handel wrote to his mother, at 
the beginning of his convalescence after the fever had 
been broken, he referred to Mahlee without apparent 
self-consciousness. 

“Owing to the absorption of Mrs. Templeton’s whole 
time and attention by the bedside of her husband, who 
has been suffering ever since my own illness from a se- 
vere bronchitis,” he explained, “the task of nursing me 
has devolved upon Mahlee. She has performed this deli- 
cate duty with commendable tact and patience, proving 
that even in one of such ambiguous birth, the Lord can 

111 


112 


THE RED LANTERN 


plant and bring to fruition the seed of a true and noble 
womanliness/’ 

This was sincere praise. Yet one keen in spiritual 
discernments might have detected in it a shade of disap- 
pointment. There were no more of those half-awed 
ejaculations of wonder to which he had given way in 
former epistles when writing of Mahlee. After all, she 
was not to be the great saint, — the exotic century-flower 
of grace and holiness that he had watched for — but in a 
lesser degree, she was still ^‘commendable.” 

And gradually in these days of languor he began to 
take unconscious comfort in her presence, and even re- 
garded with less shrinking those signs of love which 
Mahlee by reason of some singular pride of her own, 
took no pains to conceal, though her native delicacy kept 
them within the bounds of an exquisite discretion. In- 
deed, he chose to interpret them as the marks of an af- 
fectionate friendship which had reached its natural fear- 
lessness after their long association at the mission. An 
underlying recognition of this sophistry may not have 
been without charm for the young missionary, for be- 
hind the ascetic, the esthete in him had a keen apprecia- 
tion of the girl ’s singular beauty. 

If Sam Wang noticed this undercurrent, he showed 
no alarm, guessing as he did, what the measure of re- 
action might be in a nature like Andrew Handel’s. He 
still met Mahlee ’s eyes, turning suddenly hostile and 
defiant whenever he entered the room, with that gleam 
of insolent mirth in his own which she had begun to hate, 
and even, vaguely, to fear, in spite of her high confi- 
dence when alone with Andrew. 

A day came when she and Andrew were, indeed, alone. 
All the other members of the mission, including Dr. and 
Mrs. Templeton (the former of whom was now recov- 
ered), had gone to attend a garden party at the British 
Legation — one of the few annual occasions in Peking 
when diplomat and missionary met in a social way. As 


THE ARK OP THE COVENANT 


113 


it was, by now, the middle of June with the moon at its 
full, it was expected that the festivities, beginning in the 
late afternoon would continue on through the evening. 
Mahlee had refused to leave her “patient,” but to every- 
body’s surprise Dr. Wang had, on the contrary, evinced 
a positive eagerness to go to the affair. Being as little 
as possible a man whom gatherings of the sort might have 
been supposed to charm, Mahlee, as well as the others, 
was at a loss to understand his motive. As he passed 
out, he nodded to Mahlee and Andrew, seated by the 
broken fountain in the Court of Lilacs, with a “Bless 
you, my children!” which left the girl biting her lips 
with anger. Even Handel winced under the familiarity, 
although he replied with a courteous inclination of the 
head. For whatever different sentiments the young di- 
vine may have secretly felt for Dr. Wang he never showed 
other than those of a dignified friendliness and gratitude. 

The sun was already sending horizontal beams through 
the branches of the trees in the court, before the last of 
the company had departed. Andrew half reclined in 
a long rattan chair placed in the shallow empty basin 
of the old fountain at such an angle that the shadow of 
the ornamental rockery fell over him and struck the 
sunny pavement beyond in fantastic zig-zag. Mahlee 
sat near him on a shelf-like projection at the base of the 
rocks. Both were quiet. Indeed Andrew, who was 
greatly fatigued, soon closed his eyes, seeing which Mah- 
lee smiled gently, and leaning forward began to fan him 
with a large palm leaf. He murmured his thanks from 
half parted lips, smiled a little himself, then dozed, over- 
come by the languor of the day and his own weakness. 
In a short time he was sleeping profoundly. 

The girl’s eyes filled with sudden tears as she bent 
yearningly over his face. It seemed to her less like a 
man’s than some angel’s, — so white and beautiful. Yet 
in strange contrast with its unearthly aspect, she saw 
about the brow small beads of sweat which, forming upon 
8 


114 


THE KED LANTERN 


the excessive paleness of the skin, suggested to her the 
dews of death. The fancy was so strong that her throat 
rose in quick anguish and she put out her hand as if to 
shield the sleeping man from an unseen enemy. But the 
next moment she laughed to herself with joyous assur- 
ance. “No! no! not until we are both grown old to- 
gether !^^ And with finger tips soft as cobwebs, she 
brushed away the drops, and stroked back the moist hair 
from his temples, disclosing as she did so, a delicate blue 
tracery of veins like that on the forehead of a child. 
Under it, she could feel the rhythmical beat of his pulse 
which stirred her strangely like some mysterious and in- 
timate message sent to her from the depths of his being. 
She had an unconquerable longing to touch the place 
with her lips. But her pride still forbade her. 

“Yet I shall not have long to wait,” she smiled to her- 
self. ‘ ‘ For when he wakes, he will love me. ’ ^ 

It was like a great faith within her created by the 
ardour of her own desire. Still smiling, she leaned her 
head back against the rocks and plunged into a dream of 
the future. 

Presently the shadows of the evening commenced to 
fall. The bees, which all day long had been flashing 
through the air like drops of concentrated light, now of 
one accord deserted the flowers. Yet, here and there, 
through the leaves of the great mulberry and locust, on 
the pavement of the court and on the old tiled roofs, the 
late sunshine still quivered in luminous patches. Mahlee, 
with half closed eyes and open nostrils, drank in the 
fragrance of new blooms which filled the spacious place — 
breaths of acacia, jasmine, flowering almond and pome- 
granate mingled with the predominating scent of the 
lilacs. 

She was suddenly seized by the idea of crowning 
herself with lilacs that she might be more beautiful at 
Andrew’s awakening. And immediately she rose and 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


115 


began to tip-toe about the court, softly breaking off the 
loveliest clusters from the tops of the bushes and twining 
them with dexterous fingers into a wreath. She chose 
the purple blooms to harmonise with the blue-black glint 
of her hair and the deep mauve of the dress she was 
wearing. But before putting on the wreath, obeying a 
second impulse, she unloosened all the heavy braids which 
cowled her head, so that her hair fell in sombre undu- 
lating masses to her knees. Then, crowning and inter- 
weaving it with the lilacs, she sat down again by An- 
drew. 

There was complete silence now except for the sound 
of his breathing. Would he ever wake? she smilingly 
asked herself. Yet even this suspense was exquisite. 
She was fiushed with anticipation. She seemed to stand 
on the threshold of some radiant new world — an im- 
mensity shot through with rainbow-coloured flames. 
How remote and barren from this warm splendour ap- 
peared the lofty summits of her former dreams ! She 
smiled to think that she could ever have deluded herself 
with so cold a semblance of bliss. 

The sun had set and the moon, large and purpureal, 
was appearing between the pillars of the ornamental 
arcade on the eastern side of the quadrangle, when, at 
last, the young missionary stirred. As he opened his 
eyes, he appeared a little bewildered to find himself in 
the court, for it was the first time since his illness that 
he had been out of his room. 

‘‘Mahlee!^^ he called vaguely. 

Instantly the girl was bending over him. 

‘‘Yes, here am I !” she replied in a low vibrating voice 
as one who makes answer to a long expected summons. 

Had some magic love-spell been, in truth, working in 
him ? Or was it only the exhilaration caused by his long 
sleep and his waking in the fresh air after his weeks of 
confinement in a sick chamber ? For the opalescent fires 


116 


THE RED LANTERN 


in his pale eyes were all in play as he gazed up at her, 
and the precise inflections of his ordinary voice had ut- 
terly disappeared when he spoke. 

“Why! you look like some beautiful Bacchante/^ he 
exclaimed, ‘ ‘ with wild grapes in your hair. ’ ^ 

She laughed in soft delight. “Not grapes, — only 
lilacs. ’ ’ 

He smiled back at her. Then raising himself to a sit- 
ting position on the long chair, looked about him. 

‘ ‘ Ah, what a perfect night ! ” he cried. 

The moon, mounting swiftly, whitened as it ascended 
until it hung a pure silver disc in the clear sky. It let 
fall upon the steep, curved roofs of the old buildings a 
magnificent shaft of light which broke against the green 
faience in a million emeralds and brought into vivid 
illumination the heads and protruding eyes of the drag- 
ons and gargoyles at the corners of the eaves. 

“Yes, it is beautiful, and it is only the beginning,’’ 
Mahlee replied in the same low voice. 

Andrew looked at her wonderingly. He did not alto- 
gether follow her thought, but he was fascinated by her 
new loveliness. He seemed, in truth, like a man still in 
his dreams. 

‘ ‘ Let us walk about, ’ ’ he said, after a pause. ‘ ‘ I think 
I have enough strength, now.” He pushed himself up- 
right by the aid of the chair, but once on his feet, he be- 
gan to waver. 

Mahlee flew to him. “You must lean on me,” she 
said, and drew his arm about her neck so that it rested 
upon her shoulders. 

Very slowly, like a pair of lovers, they began to pace 
the court, and Andrew Handel trembled as he caught the 
warmth of the girl’s body. She led him into the massed 
shadows under the big trees, where the soft night folded 
them in more closely, and the moonshine was subdued to 
a mild effulgence like the radiance from candles. They 
had relapsed into total silence. He could see her profile 


THE ARK OP THE COVENANT 


117 


against the dusk of her hair, — the delicate outline of 
nose and chin ; the heavy-lidded eye, the amorous fluting 
of the lips, and the small ear with the lobe perforated for 
the ring she had worn in it as a child. Once, to avoid 
a low-hanging branch, her head swayed towards his some- 
what suddenly, and a strand of her hair intertwined with 
lilacs, fell across his mouth. They walked on for a few 
steps, then he faltered, and stood quite still. He had 
drawn his arm from off her shoulder and now swung 
about facing her. Never had she seen him so ! Under 
the transparency of his skin, the blood mounted like red 
wine in a crystal; his lips were working, but the teeth 
underneath were set, and his pupils were so expanded as 
to make his eyes look jet-black. 

She uttered a short inarticulate sound, half fearful, 
half triumphant ; then waited, her throat rising and fall- 
ing in quick pants. For a moment longer he swayed 
unsteadily, crushing with his hand the blossom of a night- 
blooming jasmine which had attached itself to the trunk 
of the large locust tree under which they were standing. 
Its heavy odour, made doubly powerful by the pressure, 
filled the air as if a vial of some highly concentrated 
perfume had been shattered. And suddenly, he stooped, 
caught one of her hands in his own and raised it trem- 
blingly, eagerly, towards his lips. But before he had 
touched them to it, a sudden breeze parted the thick 
canopy of leaves above, letting in a strong shaft of moon- 
light. It struck the long fingers which lay in his ; and he 
saw their yellow gleam. . . . 

Andrew Handel recoiled slowly, almost imperceptibly, 
the blood receding from his face and the fires dying in 
his eyes. Then, with a deliberate movement, which was 
yet half reluctant, he let Mahlee’s hand fall from his 
own. 


XV 


B ursts of laughter from the returning missionaries 
bidding good-night to each other, sounded noisily 
from the further side of one of the arcades. Mahlee 
tore off her lilac-garlands and with swift shamed move- 
ments, almost as one who fears to be caught naked, se- 
cured her hair tightly again to her head. In another 
moment. Dr. and Mrs. Templeton entered the moonlit 
court followed by Sam Wang and a tall English girl of 
about eighteen. As he came forward Dr. Wang shot a 
swift glance at Andrew and Mahlee, standing conspicu- 
ously apart under the locust tree, and for an instant the 
muscles of his large face vibrated curiously as if he had 
experienced some acute and exquisite sensation. The 
Eurasian girl met the leaping triumph in his eyes with a 
queer vacant stare, yet bowed courteously as, without 
waiting for Mrs. Templeton to fulfil the office, he swept 
out his hand towards the young woman at his side. 

“Miss Sackville — Mahlee.” 

He paused on the final clause of the introduction just 
long enough to make the absence of the surname pain- 
fully apparent; and then presented Andrew Handel. 
The young missionary, visibly relieved though he was by 
the entrance of the others, bowed with constraint. He 
seemed to suffer a certain uneasiness, not to say dis- 
pleasure, in being discovered alone with the Eurasian 
girl by this unknown and elegant young woman ; nor was 
his satisfaction complete when Mrs. Templeton explained 
that Mahlee had been Mr. Handel’s nurse during a 
serious illness following upon a wound which he had 
received from the Boxers in Shantung. 

“Ah, really!” exclaimed Miss Sackville, looking from 

118 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


119 


Andrew to Malilee with polite concern. In the moon- 
light she was discernible as a girl of about Mahlee’s 
height and build, fair-haired and white-browed, with 
large frank eyes. She was dressed in some frothy white 
stuff and wore a bunch of flowers which Andrew Han- 
del made out with a little thrill to be lilies of the valley. 
They grew in his mother’s garden in Vermont. He had 
not seen them since he had left home. 

“But the nurse on the case is honourably discharged 
to-night,” said Dr. Wang, “since thanks to her excellent 
care, I am now able to pronounce the patient completely 
recovered.” 

There was an indeflnable accent in his voice which 
made Mahlee flush violently. But she replied in a dry 
matter-of-fact tone without glancing at Andrew. 

“Thank you. Dr. Wang. I am glad if my duty is done 
that I can now be relieved.” 

^ ‘ Poor child ! ’ ’ Mrs. Templeton exclaimed within her- 
self. “So it is come already.” Then pitying Andrew, 
whom she saw wince and attempt to stammer his grati- 
tude, she said: 

“Certainly it is a joy to know that our dear Andrew 
is well again. Do I understand that you are taking him 
back to your own house this evening. Dr. Wang? . . . 

Yes! Then we will all say good-night. Miss Saekville, 
who has never been in a foreign mission station before, 
has come for the express purpose of visiting every de- 
partment of our work and will need to be up early.” 

“ Yes, I want to take in everything,” said the girl. 

They separated for the night ; Miss Saekville walking 
with Mahlee behind the old people. As the four mounted 
the verandah steps and stood for a moment in front of the 
door waiting for the servant to open it, their silhouettes 
were thrown in strong shadow against the panelling in 
such a way that the profiles of the two girls came face to 
face on the same level. 

The young men, moved by a simultaneous impulse, 


120 


THE RED LANTERN 


had turned in the middle of the court on the way to their 
rooms. Suddenly Sam Wang clutched the missionary’s 
arm. 

“ Do you see that! ” he said in an excited whisper. 
“Their profiles on the door! The nose, the chin, the 
forehead, — the entire outline — exactly alike! That re- 
semblance has been baffling me all day ; but by the Lord ! 
I could swear now they were hatched from the same 
egg!’’ 

But Andrew Handel, who, either from fatigue or hu- 
miliation, was in a state, indeed, a “little lower than the 
angels,” made a movement of impatience. 

“If that be so,” he said coldly, “the resemblance ends 
with the outline. For as anyone can see even in the 
moonlight, Miss Sackville is as fair as a lily. ’ ’ 

Later, in the guest room with Mahlee, the English girl 
became confidential. 

‘ ‘ I feel very lucky, ’ ’ she said, ‘ ‘ to have a chance to see 
a mission from the inside. I Ve long wanted to. ’ ’ 

Mahlee began to light the candles. 

“You see,” Miss Sackville continued, “I’m keeping a 
diary of my experiences in the Far East and shall devote 
several pages to my impressions on Foreign Missions. 
I’m sure to be asked when I get home whether I believe 
in them. Papa doesn’t. Indeed he’s quite opposed, but 
Mamma says they’re very worthy institutions. It was 
she who let me accept Mrs. Templeton’s kind invitation. 
She thought that since there is so much discussion on the 
question now, it would be just as well to have one mem- 
ber of the family, at le*ast, informed as to the real facts. 

Besides it will be excellent material for my journal 

good sober stuff, you know, after all the balls. Papa 
says if the diary proves interesting enough he’ll have it 
printed for circulation among our friends.” 

The Eurasian moved away to draw the curtains. 

“May I ask in what capacity you’re employed here?” 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


121 


the other pursued as if determined to lose no time in her 
collection of data. ‘‘You’re a trained nurse, are you 
not?” Innocently as the question was put it set the 
colour surging like molten gold in Mahlee’s cheeks. 

“No,” she said without turning, “I am not a profes- 
sional nurse, nor am I ‘employed,’ if you mean by that, 
doing something for money. This is my home.” Her 
tone conveyed a subtle rebuke such as one gentlewoman 
might give to another who had mistaken her for an in- 
ferior. 

Miss Sackville was quick to catch it and change her 
own tone. 

‘ ‘ Oh ! ’ ’ she said, ‘ ‘ I beg your pardon. I didn ’t under- 
stand. You are Miss Templeton, of course. How stupid 
of me ! But really your mother didn ’t tell me that you 
were here, and I failed to catch your name when Dr. 
Wang introduced us. I find your parents charming,” 
she added, as if anxious to sooth the other’s wounded 
sensibilities. 

Mahlee finished adjusting the curtains. 

“They are not my real parents,” she said. 

Then as the other looked at her curiously with a polite 
“Indeed?” some impulse difficult to explain led her to 
repeat that foolish boast which had already drawn forth 
Sam Wang’s irony. 

“My father is a foreign mandarin,” she said, and 
regretted her words the next instant, as she foresaw 
in the frank, albeit astonished delight of the English 
girl, the necessity for a humiliating explanation. 

‘ ‘ A foreign mandarin ! ’ ’ the latter exclaimed, suddenly 
struck by Mahlee’s beauty. “You mean somebody with 
a title, — a person of the aristocracy? Oh, how nice! I 
wonder if we have any mutual friends. But what a 
quaint original way of expressing it, — a foreign man- 
darin. Fancy! Do you mean that he’s had a ‘button’ 
bestowed upon him by the Chinese government like some 
of the gentlemen at the legations?” 


122 


THE RED LANTERN 


‘ ‘ That may be the case, ’ ’ said Mahlee drily. ^ ‘ I have 
not seen him for years. 

“Ah, how sad!” exclaimed Miss Sackville with quick 
sympathy. “I don’t know how I could live away from 
Papa. We’re the greatest cronies imaginable.” 

She seized Mahlee ’s hand with a pretty gesture. “You 
must come to see me at the legation,” she said impul- 
sively. “We’re making quite a protracted stay in Pe- 
king, you know. My father is Sir Philip Sackville, a re- 
tired army officer. He’s served all over the East. He 
used to be here about twenty years ago, and had even 
then an idea of writing a book about the Manchu 
Dynasty. And now he is really doing it, so he has to re- 
main at the Capital to interview the Chinese Court offi- 
cials. You will come, won’t you, dear Miss — ” She 
paused in some embarrassment. 

“Mahlee, simply Mahlee,” the other supplied hastily. 

Miss Sackville looked a little startled, then pleased. 

“Oh, how charming of you! You mean I’m to call 
you by your Christian name. Then you must call me 
Blanche. I’m sure we’ll soon be like sisters. I’ve just 
been yearning to have a girl friend here, but klamma 
doesn’t like me to associate with anybody outside our 
own kind of people. But she’ll be delighted when she 
knows I’ve discovered you. If it doesn’t seem too curi- 
ous, may I ask how you come to be living at this mis- 
sion ? ’ ’ 

At the question a strange look came into the Eurasian ’s 
face. In a spirit of self-directed irony she seemed to 
take delight in making her answer as bald as possible, 
though, no doubt, a part of her frankness was due to the 
realisation that her story would be told by others if not 
by herself. 

' ‘ Certainly, ’ ’ she said in an even voice, ‘ ‘ I will tell you, 
if it can be of the slightest interest to you. I was 
brought here more than four years ago on the back of a 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


123 


Ya-bah, or deaf-mute, after wounding myself at my old 
home in a Chinese coffin-yard in a remote part of the city. 
As Madame Ling, my grandmother, and only known 
relative except a dissolute Chinese uncle, died that same 
night, I never returned.’^ 

The pretty shell-pink in her listener’s face deepened to 
a painful scarlet, visible by the candle light. 

‘ ‘ I — I fear I don ’t quite understand, ’ ’ she stammered. 

Mahlee repeated her statement in the same even voice. 

“A Chinese coffin-yard! Madame Ling, your grand- 
mother, — a dissolute Chinese uncle ! ’ ’ Miss Sackville 
echoed the words this time after Mahlee in distressed be- 
wilderment. “But I thought — I understood you to say 
that your father was a nobleman — a ‘foreign mandarin,’ 
as you expressed it.” 

“That is what my grandmother affirmed of him,” said 
Mahlee with a curious defiant pride, “and I believe it to 
be true.” 

She stood up very erect. The young English girl was 
awed by her air. 

“Am I to understand then — ” she began in the utmost 
confusion, “that your father — that you are — are — ” she 
stuttered and stopped short, the colour flooding her face. 

“I am an Eurasian,” Mahlee said quietly, “without a 
name.” 

“ Oh ! ” cried Blanche Sackville. 

They gazed at each other. Some mutual attraction 
held them. It was almost a recognition. But they were 
divided — divided as effectually as if the air had suddenly 
been cleaved between them, leaving the interspace a 
vacuum. Behind them, on the wall beyond the candles, 
their silhouettes were again shadowed face to face with 
the outline of the features identical. 

For a moment they stood thus. Then, with a sharp 
backward movement of the head, Mahlee broke the si- 
lence, 


124 


THE KED LANTERN 


“Good-night/’ she said. Her tone had an odd me- 
tallic ring, and yet it was perfectly courteous. 

“Good-night,” replied the English girl very kindly. 
For another second, their gaze met; then, with the 
bearing of a young queen, the Eurasian left the room. 


XVI 


U PON entering the dining room the next morning, 
Blanche Sackville greeted Mahlee in a manner a 
little constrained but exceedingly kind; and the Eu- 
rasian, on her side, though even more than usually silent, 
conducted herself y^ith fine courtesy as a woman of dis- 
tinction who does honour to a guest of equal degree. It 
was only when Andrew Handel appeared in the door- 
way that a slight painful tremor passed through her. 

“Dr. Wang has insisted upon my coming in for a cup 
of coffee, ’ ’ Handel said with some embarrassment after a 
“Good-moming’^ which he directed towards the com- 
pany in general without glancing at Mahlee. He was 
looking very pale, and explained that the new cook whom 
Dr. Wang had engaged since his arrival was plunged in 
an opium stupor and had neglected to prepare any 
breakfast. 

“The Doctor himself,’’ he added with an effort at 
pleasantry, “is feasting off jou-po-pos bought on the 
street ; he says he prefers Chinese food to European, but 
declares I am not fit for anything but Christian cooking. ’ ’ 
Dr. and Mrs. Templeton gave a little hospitable ex- 
clamation of concern, and Mahlee leapt instinctively to 
her feet and placed an armchair with cushions at the 
table. 

* ‘ Do sit down, ’ ’ she murmured. 

Andrew, who had been looking at Miss Sackville, col- 
oured uncomfortably. 

“ Thank you,” he said with an accent almost of im- 
patience, “but an ordinary chair is all that I require. I 
am no longer to be counted an invalid, you know. ’ ’ 

And ignoring the armchair, he seated himself on a 

125 


126 


THE RED LANTERN 


straight-backed one by the side of Miss Sackville, whom 
’ he addressed with a formality which did not disguise his 
eagerness. Her morning freshness somehow reminded 
him of springtime in the Vermont hills where he had 
wandered as a boy in seach of white flowers, — he had 
always had a passion for white flowers, — and as he spoke 
to the young girl the lines of the poet came to his mind : 

“Hast thou looked upon the breath 
Of the lilies at sunrise?” 

“The chapel is open this morning,’^ he told her, “and 
if you will permit me, I will show you our organ. It is 
a gift from a lady in New York who visited the mission 
last year. We have had it less than six months and are 
very proud of it.^’ 

“Indeed! and do you play it?’’ Miss Sackville asked. 
His former impatient accent in speaking to Mahlee, and 
the look of proud pain it had left on the Eurasian ’s face, 
had not escaped her, and by way of delicate rebuke her 
own voice expressed but a mediocre interest. 

Dr. Templeton answered for Handel. “Wonderfully 
— beautifully, ’ ’ and his wife echoed his enthusiasm. But 
the young missionary remonstrated against such undue 
praise. 

“Hardly that at any time; and at present, especially, 
I am much out of practice. But I am anxious to run 
over some old things and should be very glad to do so 
this morning if you care to hear the organ. ’ ’ 

Miss Sackville answered this time with more pleasure. 

“That will be a treat. I have not heard any organ 
music since I left Europe.” 

As they rose from the table, she turned to Mahlee. 
“You will come, too, won’t you?” she said with a smile. 

The Eurasian hesitated; then, as Handel echoed the 
invitation, albeit with some feebleness, she replied : 
“Certainly, if you wish.” 

But the next moment her heart contracted sharply as 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


127 


she saw the pleasure vanish from his face. He had 
hoped she would excuse herself as Dr. and Mrs. Temple- 
ton had already done. He wanted to be alone with this 
stranger! Something shot through Mahlee like a pois- 
oned arrow. All her love, all her cherishing of him, and 
her dreams of his love poured out to her in return, were 
to end in this ! Her eyes narrowed ; her skin itself 
seemed to darken. Beside the fair English girl with her 
lily-like beauty, she might have been compared to some 
strange tawny orchid. Yet as they passed across the 
court together towards the chapel, the subtle resemblance 
between the two girls which Sam Wang had pointed out 
the evening before, suddenly startled Handel in spite of 
himself. But again he thrust the idea aside impatiently, 
as something displeasing and even indiscreet. 

They came into the yard where the white chapel with 
its belfry stood between the two great stoles which the 
defunct mandarin who had once been master of the 
place, had reared to his ancestors. Blanche Sackville 
admired the enormous stone tortoises which upheld them. 

“The tortoise in China is a symbol of longevity and 
peace,’’ said Andrew, “and in building the chapel, Dr. 
Templeton decided that they should not be removed. ’ ’ 

At the young girl’s request, he read and translated the 
extraordinary list of virtues recorded in praise of the 
mandarin ’s forefathers. 

The interior of the chapel was extremely simple with 
scarcely any architectural ornament, and no other wall 
decorations than scrolls inscribed with scriptural texts in 
Chinese characters similar to those in the Inquirers’ 
class-room which Sam Wang had so wantonly destroyed. 
The organ with its pipes, painted in blue and gold, was 
built into the wall at one side of the pulpit. Andrew 
placed two chairs for the young women near the organ 
bench ; then seating himself, he began to run his fingers 
at random over the keys. His hands, since his illness, 
had become thin and white almost to transparency, but 


128 


THE RED LANTERN 


the touch of the organ seemed to fill them with a fine 
quivering strength. Blanche Sackville watched them 
with delight; then, as Andrew suddenly bent forward 
over the instrument and struck the opening chords of 
the Gloria in Bach’s Mass in B Minor, her eyes glistened. 
She had once sung the part at a musical festival at her 
church at home, and before she was aware of it, she was 
joining in the aria with a bird-like soprano. 

^^Laudamus te . . , laudamus te . . . lau- 

damus te, henedicimus te, adoramus te, glorificamus 
te—^' 

Her voice, pure and clear, might have been that of a 
Beatrice hymning her praise in the Empyrean. She 
had risen to her feet and was turned towards Handel. 
Mahlee could see his eyes fixed upon the young girl’s 
face, and knew by their expression that he had totally 
forgotten her own presence. . . . 

A dumb anguish possessed her. She had never heard 
Andrew play so well before, and she was enough of a 
critic to know that Blanche Sackville ’s soprano was re- 
markably beautiful, but she shrank back on her chair as 
if her ears were being assailed by hideous discords. 
What had her soul to do with this Christian music ? If 
it were in reality sublime and harmonious, and the dis- 
cords all in herself, it was torture to her none the less. 
It produced in her something almost like physical pain. 
She clenched her hands to keep herself from shrieking 
as the beautiful chant rose higher. 

Laudamus te . . , henedicimus te . . , .ador- 
amus te . . 

She saw Blanche Sackville ’s uplifted face and An- 
drew’s eyes like lambent flames turned to it. At the 
conclusion of the piece, Mahlee was shaking with pain 
and jealousy. 

‘'Your voice is exquisite, dear Miss Sackville,” An- 
drew murmured in the tone of one who has been in Para- 
dise. 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


129 


The young girl blushed. ^‘You are a rare accom- 
panist/’ she answered. Then as if to break the spell 
which the music had cast upon them, she turned to 
Mahlee. 

“Do you not play or sing?” she asked. 

Mahlee broke into am odd little laugh. 

“I have never tried to sing, and I scarcely know 
whether what I do on the organ can be called playing or 
not. ’ ’ 

“Then won’t you give me an opportunity to judge?” 
the girl begged politely. She was sincerely interested in 
this curious creature and deeply sorry for her. It is 
very possible that she divined the situation between 
Mahlee and the young missionary. 

“Yes, Mahlee,” interposed Handel, “pray gratify 
Miss Sackville’s wish. You know that you can play the 
organ very creditably when you try. — Mahlee was my 
pupil in music for several years,” he explained to the 
English girl, “and although it is some time since she 
has had a lesson, I am sure she remembers many of her 
old selections.” 

He rose from the organ bench and invited the Eu- 
rasian to take it. There was something slightly patron- 
ising in his air. He had, in fact, decided that the scene 
of the previous evening might be honourably dismissed 
from his mind. After all, he had done nothing to com- 
promise his dignity and for some reason his thankful- 
ness for that fact showed itself in a just detectible as- 
sertion of superiority. 

The girl felt it, and a queer rebellious flash shot out 
from between her heavy lids. 

“Since you both ask me,” she said in that even tone 
in which she had made the confession of her birth to 
Blanche Sackville, “I will play.” 

And taking the vacated seat, she spread out her long 
fingers and let them fall on the key-board. Instantly 
the little chapel was filled with a weird whisper, multi- 
9 


130 


THE RED LANTERN 


pie, insistent, reiterative as from many voices in clandes- 
tine council, followed by a subdued crackling like the 
laughter issuing from some unlighted subterranean 
world. 

So uncannily real was it, that Blanche Sackville paled 
and looked about her in fright, while Handel cried 
sternly : 

“Mahlee, what is this you are playing?’^ 

But the Eurasian answered in a voice which he had 
never heard. 

^‘Let me alone! let me alone! It is my turn now — 
my music; the voices of my ancestors, the old yellow 
people, whispering and laughing in their graves.’’ 

And with a peculiar gliding of her fingers over the 
keys, the crackling laughter prolonged itself into a howl 
of mirth. 

Yeel yee! yee! 

‘ ^ They are drinking their rice brandy now, and grow- 
ing merry. But it is war, war of which they talk, — 
Listen ! ’ ’ 

Under her hands, an indescribable din burst forth. 
Deep bass notes as from the beating of gongs and temple 
bells boomed m formidable undertone to a shrill tor- 
menting of moon fiddles, sam yins and citherns, with the 
sharp clash of cymbals and wail of Chinese flutes. And 
as if stimulated to frenzy by this diabolical orchestra, 
the shouts of laughter became infuriated squalls. Then 
suddenly the organ emitted a heavy reverberating sound 
like the breaking asui der of rocks and clods. Mahlee 
was bending intently over the key-board. 

“They are rising from the earth,” she said. “The 
Great Dragon is belching them forth to revenge the out- 
rages it has suffered. The old Tartar hordes of Ghen- 
gis Khan are bursting from their graves to fight and kill 
again. ’ ’ 

As she played, the Eurasian’s lips drew back from 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


131 


her teeth in a strange smile; her cheek bones seemed to 
rise higher on her face. 

^‘To fight and kill again!’’ she repeated. “Hark, 
to the trumpets proclaiming war in the land!” And 
with the words she drew from the pipes a succes- 
sion of blasts so hoarse and blood-curdling, that Blanche 
Sackville screamed. 

“Stop! Mahlee! Stop! I command you!” cried An- 
drew Handel, white with disgust and anger. For a mo- 
ment he had imagined himself back as a prisoner in the 
camp of the Boxers. 

‘^Yeet yee! yee!^’ 

The organ had stopped, but a laugh in exact imita- 
tion of that from Mahlee ’s underworld braves rang 
through the chapel. Sam Wang advanced, grinning ex- 
travagantly. 

“I perceive that I break in upon a concourse of all 
the harmonies,” he said, “but a dramatic entrance is 
my special role of late, and I could not resist seizing 
this occasion for one. I ’ve been waiting here at the door 
for the precise psychological moment. Miss Sackville, 
you look as if you were in need of fresh air and smelling 
salts. Handel, pray escort her out like the perfect gen- 
tleman you are. No ! I see you are ready to faint 
yourself. I must conduct you both. Permit me, la- 
dies.” 

He ironically included the missionary in the last term, 
and seizing an arm of each, hurried them with expres- 
sions of mock concern to the door. 

“Poor things! You do look white. Mahlee ’s music 
has been too much for you. There, — there, may you re- 
vive ! ’ ’ 

And with a movement not unlike a shove, he had them 
out and had closed the door. 


XYII 


TIT IS small beady eyes glittered as be turned them 
upon Mahlee. 

She was in a mood to rejoice in the insolent audacity 
of the man, and suffered for a moment the bold admira- , 
tion of his gaze before she spoke with some sarcasm, but 
no rebuke. 

‘ ‘ So you have come to share my isolation again ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Isolation no longer ! ’ ’ he cried, his enthusiasm burst- 
ing bonds. “With that music in your soul, you have 
only to call, for millions to rise and follow you. I am 
here to point you to your destiny which you must al- 
ready feel. 

She gave him a startled look, but he continued with 
excitement. 

“Mahlee! Mahlee! You are tremendous! As I lis- 
tened to the blare of your trumpets, I imagined you 
the Jeanne d’Arc of China leading us all to victory. 
Whether you know it or not, you are one of us. You 
are as good as committed to the Cause.” 

“One of you!” she echoed in a voice become sud- 
denly intense. “'The Cause’! Do you mean, then, 
that you are a Boxer?” 

He measured her, wary for a second, then made his 
decision. 

“It is my proudest title!” he said boldly. 

Her eyes rested upon him with a mingling of horror 
and admiration. “You have dared!” she cried, and 
again, as if she found the thing incredible. “You 
dare ! ’ ’ 

He burst into a laugh. “I stand revealed in all my 
hideous hypocrisy. Yet certainly after our conversa- 

132 


THE ARK OP THE COVENANT 


133 


tion of some months ago, you cannot have imagined, like 
the other pious idiots, that I was really here as a mis- 
sionary of the Gospel?’’ 

“No, I was scarcely a victim to that delusion, but — ” 

“But you wondered why I was here at all — what I 
was up to? — ^You shall know all,” he said motioning 
her to be seated and taking a chair himself. “While 
you have been nursing your sweet ascetic, I have been 
hard at work. My hospital on Pheasant Lane has al- 
ready become a bureau for secret despatches from Shan- 
tung. In this service my two greatest helpers are the 
Eurasians, Sing and Chung, who, with myself, were 
once known in the mission as the Devil’s Triplets. 
They turned up a few weeks ago from the northern 
plains where they deal in camels and dress in sheep- 
skins. With them as my agents I am now in direct 
communication with many of the leaders of the I Ho 
Ch’uan. When I have this end of the work fully or- 
ganised, I shall go myself to Shantung where I am al- 
ready known as the Illustrious Patriot Ching Lin. Un- 
der this name, and with the secret protection of the 
Governor Yu Hsien, I shall be able to acquire a far- 
reaching influence. My knowledge of surgery coupled 
with a certain skill I have in jugglery, learned as a 
boy, will make me seem like a veritable man of miracles. 
Even since my arrival I have gained many adherents 
in this city by my cures, among whom I am proud to 
number several former Christian converts. You know, 
for instance, the old crone Huang-ma who welcomed 
me with such violent invectives. Well, I removed her 
cataracts and now she is one of my most assiduous work- 
ers. ’ ’ 

“Workers!” Mahlee again echoed aghast. “You are 
working and making others work for the Boxer Cause 
under the very eyes of the missionaries!” 

“Under their very eyes, if they have any eyes,” he 
answered with light contempt. “Fortunately for my 


134 


THE KED LANTERN 


purposes, the hospital is outside the compound, and the 
East Bell Street Dispensary, still further away, can 
be readily made into another centre for activity.” He 
looked at her with whimsical impudence. ‘ ‘ In fact, I ’m 
reserving the place for you. There are rooms in the 
Dispensary building adapted for housekeeping arrange- 
ments. With Huang-ma as your servant, you could live 
there very comfortably and carry on a work of prosely- 
tising among women.” 

The suggestion sent the blood strongly to her face. 
Yet he saw, not without a quicker beating of his heart, 
that it was not entirely displeasing to her. He had 
rightly gauged the strength of her jealous passion. He 
went on speaking rapidly that she might have no chance 
for reply. 

^Ht is to be a fair game,” he said. “We’ll give the 
foreign devils plenty of time to take to their heels, — 
enter into swine, if they like, and all precipitate them- 
selves into the sea. It will only be in ease they ignore 
our repeated hints to evacuate that we shall bring a lit- 
tle pressure to bear upon them.” 

“But if it comes to that, you will not stop at blood- 
shed? — ” she faltered. “You are prepared to shed the 
blood of your father’s race — of these we know?” 

His face darkened. 

“If it is necessary.” 

•“You would sacrifice even your benefactors!” she 
cried. “Old Dr. Templeton — Mrs. Templeton — my fos- 
ter parents 1” 

“No,” he said looking at her oddly. “I have thought 
of them for your sake. Long before any outbreak oc- 
curs in Peking, they will be in America.” 

As her glance questioned him, he explained: “Dr. 
Templeton has a bad cough. As his doctor I prescribe 
a year’s furlough. Nothing is more simple. By the 
end of the summer, they will be on their way home. 
I promise you that, Mahlee,” he spoke with a certain 


THE ARK OP THE COVENANT 


135 


eagerness and repeated, “and as for the others it will 
be a fair game.” 

They gazed at each other for a long moment. 

“And what is your purpose in putting me in posses- 
sion of your secrets?” she finally asked in a tone of 
studied inexpressiveness. 

“ That you may become one of us,” he answered with 
deliberation, still looking into her eyes. 

A slight spasm seized her, followed by a flash of 
feigned anger. “How can you hope that of me!” she 
cried. “Have I not told you that I count myself one 
of the white race?” 

But even to herself her voice carried no conviction, 
and she felt the feebleness of her threat as she added: 
“What reason have you to trust me? Are you not 
afraid of revelation — of arrest?” 

“I take the chance,” he said calmly. Under the 
black 'mane of his hair his eyes showed like two points 
of steel in his enormous yellow face. 

The girl shuddered, and without another word left the 
chapel. 


XVIII 


M AHLEE and Blanche Sackville did not meet again 
that day. The Eurasian locked herself in her 
room, refusing to go to both luncheon and tea on the 
ground of a severe headache; and when towards even- 
ing, she finally emerged, she was told by Miss McGinnis, 
whom she met in the Court of Lilacs, that the English 
girl had returned to the legation accompanied by An- 
drew Handel. 

“Just think!’’ exclaimed Miss McGinnis joyfully, not 
noticing Mahlee’s expression. “She gave fifty pounds 
sterling to the Kindergarten, and I’m sure would have 
given as much to the girls’ school if Miss Dorn hadn’t 
corrected her pronunciation. Of course it’s a good 
thing to be correct, but, personally, I think Miss Dorn 
overdoes it. It was a propos of my babies, too,” she 
ran on. “I had them all decked out in their prettiest 
flowered tunics with new red and green strings to their 
pigtails, and those cunning little round caps with the 
gorgeous ear-tassels and devil-chasers, you know. They 
did look sweet, for a fact, and Miss Sackville seemed 
perfectly charmed. She took little Toy up in her arms 
and patted all the others on the head, and said she 
wouldn’t believe that China was half so decadent as 
people made out as long as it produced such delight- 
ful, chubby babies. It was then that Miss Dorn cor- 
rected her. 

“ ^DecMent, did you say?’ she cried out. (You know 
how she does? I was just too ashamed!) ‘Are you 
perfectly positive that the accent falls on the penult 
instead of the antepenult?’ Poor Miss Sackville looked 
actually frightened and answered quite gently that 

136 


THE ARK OP THE COVENANT 


137 


she wasn’t positive at all. But I noticed she went 
away without giving Miss Dorn any money.” 

‘ ‘ Ah, indeed ! ’ ’ said Mahlee vaguely ; she had scarcely 
listened since she had been told that Andrew Handel 
had accompanied the English girl home, and even now 
she hoped that she had misunderstood. ‘‘Did you say,” 
she added in an indifferent tone, ‘ ‘ that Mr. Handel went 
back to the legation with Miss Sackville?” 

“Yes, and by the way he acts, I could believe that 
he’s falling in love with her already.” Miss McGinnis’ 
voice was not without a touch of resentment. “Fancy! 
in his weak condition insisting on accompanying her 
home. It was quite unnecessary — really almost bad 
form. And she didn’t want him very much either; 
that was plain. But good-bye, one of the babies has the 
colic and I must find Dr. Eliza.” 

Claribel McGinnis left the court and the Eurasian 
went back to her own room. 

She didn’t want him very much! The words had 
dropped into her heart like a ray of sickly hope. Such 
a possibility had not occurred to her in all the hours of 
her lonely strife. And even now the anguish of know- 
ing that those two were together outweighed greatly any 
other feeling that Miss McGinnis’ communication gave 
her. Truly, the irony of it was bitter enough. Blanche 
Saekville did not want him; yet he had already begun 
to follow her. And she — Mahlee — whose soul had so 
long hungered and thirsted for him, w^as to be forever 
denied his love. 

But was it forever^? If Miss Saekville persisted in 
remaining indifferent, might he not finally come back 
to her? It was poisoned comfort, surely, for one so 
proud, and yet she did not put it quite away. 

“As good as committed, am I?” she said to herself 
half fiercely as if defying Sam Wang. “That is not yet 
so certain!” 

And she appeared the next morning and for many 


138 


THE KED LANTERN 


months afterwards in her old severe monastic dress in 
which she had formerly won Andrew Handel’s appro- 
bation. This was her answer to Sam Wang! He met 
it with his usual grin, and said nothing. And on her 
side, a peculiar loyalty which she could not analyse to 
this man she hated, — a loyalty which astonished herself 
— kept her from revealing a word of what he had told 
her. 

In September, after the return of the missionaries 
from the hills west of Peking where they were wont to 
take refuge from the vapourish heat of the Chinese 
summer, the Templetons, acting upon Dr. Wang’s ur- 
gent advice, left for America. The entire mission, in- 
cluding Dr. Eliza Kennedy, was agreed upon the neces- 
sity for this furlough. Dr. Templeton still coughed, 
and as everybody knew, if he remained on the field, he 
could not be made to relax in his strenuous efforts. 

Mrs. Templeton, thinking deeply upon her duty to 
the Eurasian girl, had suggested to her husband that 
Mahlee should go home with them and continue her 
education in the woman’s college in New England where 
their own daughter. Pearl, was now studying. This 
would, of course, have meant considerable sacrifice, as 
the funds would have had to come from their own 
meagre salary; but Dr. Templeton had instantly ap- 
proved the plan, and even blamed himself for not being 
the first to think of it. But when the proposition was 
made to Mahlee, she had but a moment’s hesitation 
before she decided in the negative. An education in 
America was certainly tempting, but Andrew Handel 
was here, — and here also was Blanche Sackville! Her 
jealous love was far stronger than her intellectual am- 
bition. She thanked her foster parents for their great 
kindness, but said she was needed at the mission and 
would stay. Mrs. Templeton sighed deeply at her an- 
swer. She understood very well the girl’s real motive, 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


139 


and knew that insistence would do no good. Her heart 
was full of grave misgivings, but Mahlee was not a per- 
son from whom one might invite confidence. So the 
missionary’s wife could say nothing. 

On the eve of their departure the venerable couple 
were accorded a big farewell reception by all the mis- 
sionaries in Peking, as well as the Christian converts 
at the Ark of the Covenant, almost all of whom Dr. 
Templeton had himself baptised. The next morning, 
Mahlee accompanied her foster parents as far as the 
walls of the city, where Dr. Templeton blessed her 
tenderly, calling her a true and faithful daughter of 
the Church ; and Mrs. Templeton folded her in her arms 
and kissed her with warm but anxious affection. 
Blinded by tears the girl turned from them. Ah, was 
not her loyalty to these her clearest duty? What had 
she to do with Wang’s hideous proposals? Never, never 
would she give herself to such treachery. A true and 
faithful daughter of the Church she was, indeed, and 
such she would remain. 

Shortly after the Templetons were gone. Dr. Wang 
surprised the missionaries by announcing his intention 
of taking up the work of famine relief begun by Handel 
in Kiangsu, province contiguous to Shantung. As the 
need in this region was known to be urgent and as 
Wang laughed at the dangers involved, the mission 
gave its unanimous consent, and the doctor started off 
on his journey early in October, stating that he would 
be back by the beginning of the year. He left the 
hospital on Pheasant Lane in the charge of a native 
medical assistant, over whom, as was remembered after- 
wards, he had got complete control. 

Mahlee had given him no chance to see her alone since 
the day in the chapel, but in bidding her good-bye in 
the presence of the other missionaries, he looked squarely 
into her eyes and said: 


140 


THE BED LANTERN 


“When I come back in January, Mahlee, I shall ap- 
point you superintendent of the East Bell Street 
Clinic/^ 

That was all ; but the Eurasian girl shuddered again, 
and passed a sleepless night. 


XIX 


A fter the departure of her foster parents, Mahlee 
lived with the “ladies” at the girls’ school. The 
house in the Court of Lilacs was taken by the Par- 
melees who gave up their own for the use of the Kin- 
dergarten, which, under the care of Miss McGinnis, 
had grown rapidly, and needed separate quarters. An- 
drew Handel continued to have his rooms in the south- 
ern wing of the Court of Lilacs, but after Dr. Wang was 
gone, took his meals with the Parmelee family. 

It was remarked by Mrs. Parmelee that the young 
missionary avoided Mahlee. On several occasions when 
he knew that the girl had been invited to dinner, he 
himself gave some excuse for staying away. This atti- 
tude on his part with the return of Mahlee ’s religious 
zeal, puzzled Mrs. Parmelee not a little. 

“Could it be possible that the poor child dreams — ” 
She once began in her husband’s presence, and then 
broke off without finishing her phrase, adding quickly: 
“Oh no, of course not! She couldn’t be so foolish; she 
must realise.” 

“Realise what, dear?” asked Mr. Parmelee looking 
up from a page of statistics. 

“The difference — the impossibility, for one so fas- 
tidious as Andrew Handel, ’ ’ answered his wife somewhat 
vaguely. 

Then suddenly she threw her arms about her hus- 
band’s neck. “Oh Morris, thank God! I am all white 
and know my father’s name.” 

Surely if ever one snatched from heathen darkness 
seemed to deserve the title of a true and faithful daugh- 
ter of the Church it was Mahlee during the next three 

141 


142 


THE EED LANTERN 


months while Sam Wang was absent in Shantung fan- 
ning the flames of Boxer patriotism. The Byzantine 
Madonna was full of authority again, smiling there on 
the wall beside the girl’s mirror, her vague but benign 
smile, while she clasped her little son somewhat awk- 
wardly in her arms. But the Eurasian’s worship of 
the Lady of Heaven was no longer the servile imitating 
of her external aspect which it once had been. Rather, 
it was now become a sincere and touching attempt to 
attain to that inward sweetness and grace which the 
old painter had succeeded in portraying so admirably 
in his Virgin’s face. This change in the quality of 
her Maryolatry was, in truth, the result of a certain 
crisis. 

One day while looking at the picture Mahlee had been 
struck by its likeness to Blanche Sackville. Not only 
might the Madonna’s forehead, nose, and chin have 
been modelled from the English girl’s (a fact which 
seemed the more remarkable to Mahlee because those 
features of the Virgin bore an equally precise simili- 
tude to her own) but there was likewise in the painted 
physiognomy that same mild look of girlish benevolence 
which Blanche Sackville ’s face wore, but which the Eu- 
rasian knew well that she had never caught. 

The discovery had cost Mahlee a day and night of 
acute jealousy. The Virgin of the picture seemed no 
longer merely a mystical rival; she became to her per- 
fervid imagination, nothing less than the actual por- 
trait of the English girl, already adored by Andrew 
Handel. She remembered how Andrew had commended 
this Madonna to her as a worthy pattern of virtue. 
Doubtless, soon, he would be commending Miss Sack- 
ville in the same light! She had had in truth a flerce 
impulse to hack the painting to pieces, and had even 
seized a sharp Chinese dagger to execute her design. 
Then the subtle but mighty power of goodness itself — 
the goodness shining from the face of her rival — had 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


143 


made her withhold her hand, and she had sunk instead 
to her knees before the picture with a strange plaintive 
cry. 

“I will be good, too,’’ she had sobbed there in a pas- 
sion of humility, ^‘and then perhaps he will learn to 
love me.” 

So her dream changed once more and her face with 
it. She made no effort to see or talk with Andrew. 
Her natural pride forbade that; but she prayed every 
night long and fervently to be made pure and holy 
enough for his love. After all, she said to herself, she 
may have judged too quickly of Andrew’s passion for 
Blanche Sackville. It might well exist only in her 
own sick fancy. Yes, she might still be happy if she 
could be patient and good. But this time it must be 
a true growth of the soul — no mere external sanctity. 

And, truly, in this human-divine effort of the Eu- 
rasian girl to merit the love for which her soul hun- 
gered, there was something infinitely touching. She 
not only fulfilled all her former duties in the mission 
with intense zeal, but made for herself new ones. She 
entered degraded hovels and ministered to the most 
abject misery. She literally fed the hungry, clothed 
the naked, and bound with her own hands terrible 
scrofulous sores as loathsome as those of leprosy. 

And on the day before the return of Sam Wang in the 
month of January, Mahlee had her reward. She was 
coming back from one of her visits of mercy carrying 
a sick baby wrapped in a corner of her shawl. It was 
a tiny girl — a blighted yellow bud cast off in scorn by 
its own mother who had threatened to choke it to death. 
In passing through the Court of Lilacs, Mahlee came 
face to face with Andrew Handel. To her surprise, he 
stopped and smilingly begged her to let him have a peep 
at the mite. She uncovered its little wizened face a 
moment, and he looked at it pityingly. 

“It will die before morning,” he said, “and perhaps 


144 


THE RED LANTERN 


that is hardly to be regretted/^ Then, as if seized by 
some sudden admiration, he fastened his pale eyes upon 
the Eurasian. “Mahlee, you are doing noble work; 
you are a holy and sanctified woman.” His voice al- 
most trembled with the richness of his approval. 

The girl fiamed with pleasure, and sped to her room, 
where she sank with the child into a chair. Ah, then 
he had noticed! then he had cared! In her need of 
some outlet for her emotion she bent over the baby and 
began to croon to it passionately, calling it by all the 
love-names she could think of. She would not even 
leave it to go to dinner when Miss McGinnis called 
her, lest the little thing should become cold, but held 
it in her arms by the fireplace all the evening, and at 
last when she had soothed it to sleep, took it with her 
to bed. It lay against her breast as she slept, and its 
soft pressure made her dream strangely. Her own little 
child, it seemed now, with a downy blond head, and 
eyes the colour of opals. Hope, she called it — her little 
daughter, Hope, — the sweetest, the most exquisite thing 
in the world! Her heart felt bursting with joy and 
tenderness. How great and wonderful life was! 

At dawn, Mahlee awoke and found the Chinese baby 
dead in the curve of her arm. 


XX 


B ut notwithstanding the omen, Mahlee felt the lit- 
tle Hope close to her heart all that morning. She 
remembered that it was the day of Sam Wang’s re- 
turn, and she came to a great decision. As soon as he 
was back, she would go to his study without waiting 
for him to seek her, and tell him that if he did not 
either leave the mission for good, or promptly sever his 
connection with the Boxers, she would inform the au- 
thorities against him. She could hear in imagination 
the peal of sardonic laughter with which he would greet 
her threat, but she would show him that she was serious. 
And if he killed her — well, that, in her exalted mood, 
seemed a little matter! Would she not be dying for 
Andrew ? 

And, in fact, early in the afternoon when she learned 
that Dr. Wang had arrived at his house, and knew 
besides that Handel was absent holding a service in 
the chapel, she made her way with strange temerity to 
the wing in the Court of Lilacs occupied by the young 
men. She was admitted by a servant who showed her 
into Andrew’s study, after explaining that the Doctor’s 
rooms were cluttered with things recently unpacked and 
so unfit for her reception. 

Certainly the room into which she had entered was 
immaculate in its order. There was, indeed, so little 
in it in comparison to its spaciousness that the idea of 
an even possible confusion was eliminated. It was one 
of the old palace chambers with dark coppery walls and 
finely carved woodwork, the light coming in agreeably 
through shaded windows. The furniture consisted of 
some bookcases ranged about the walls, a few ebony 
10 145 


146 


THE RED LANTERN 


chairs which had belonged to the palace, and a large 
ebony table placed in the centre of the room and 
used by Handel as a desk. Over it hung a globe-shaped 
lantern made of ivory and crimson silk; upon the table 
were writing materials, a few exquisitely bound books, 
and a pot of white hyacinths. 

Mahlee’s face softened. Here he lived and worked. 
How often from the court had she caught glimpses of 
him writing at his desk. She approached it and began 
to finger his books: a New Testament in Greek, Pox’s 
Book of Martyrs, De Imitatione Christi. She remem- 
bered that he had given her a copy of the two last on 
two successive New Year’s Days. They were his favour- 
ite — his intimate — books and he had wanted her to know 
them. Ah, he must care for her a little then; and 
surely there was hope that some day he would care 
much. She stood smiling softly, caressing the fine 
leather binding of the De Imitatione and murmuring 
Andrew’s name from time to time. In her straight 
grey gown with her head slightly bent, she looked not 
unlike a young nun at her prayers. 

Then suddenly something seared her eyes. It was 
the black writing on the white page of a letter — a letter 
in his hand, barely begun and torn half across as if 
judged premature, but left on the table by some strange 
oversight. 

“Beautiful beloved Blanche,” Mahlee read, “my fair 
and spotless Lily, I can no longer restrain my heart 
which cries out to you ceaselessly day and night. Yes- 
terday when you gave me your white hand to kiss, I 
knew that I must make my confession even should you 
scorn me for it ; I knew that I must tell you that I love 
you utterly — ” 

“Oh!” The cry was one of exceeding bitterness. 
He had been seeing her then! He had been with her 
only yesterday ! and he loved her ! For a long moment 
Mahlee did not move. She merely stood repeating a 


THE ARK OF THE COVENANT 


147 


single phrase of the letter as if groping after some 
hidden meaning in the words: “Your white hand to 
kiss . . . your white hand to kiss.’^ At the last 

repetition she slowly lifted her own hand — the one he 
had let fall ! — until it was within a few inches of her 
eyes. For several minutes, she gave it her keen atten- 
tion, examining it as a near-sighted person does a page 
of print. Then suddenly she flung it out from her with 
violence. 

“And mine’’ — she seemed to be making the discovery 
for the first time — ‘ ‘ is yellow ! ’ ’ 

In a moment her whole countenance had changed. 
Standing there, she seemed like the daughter of some 
savage old Tartar king resurrected from her tomb. Yet 
her flerceness was less like jealousy than the frenzied 
embracing of her own hateful fate. As once before 
long ago in Madame Ling’s death chamber, hordes of 
strange, malicious spirits seemed to take form out of 
the elements and compass her about. Again she 
stretched out her arms to them : 

“The gods have mocked me; I am yours now. Help 
me !” 

The door opened and Sam Wang, like some grin- 
ning Chinese Mephistopheles, stepped in. 





BOOK II 


THE GREAT SWORD AND THE RED LANTERN 


‘‘We, the brothers of the Long Sword, will lead the van; 

Our sisters of the Red Lantern wdll bring up the rear guard. 
Together, we will attack the barbarians, and drive them into 
the Sea.” Boxer Chant. 


I 


TREKING! Tarnished and stained old City! Thing 
of colossal bulwarks, of mammoth towers, of fan- 
tastic palaces and temples, of ancient trees and mys- 
terious hidden gardens, of countless little grey huts, — 
all blighted by the dust of two thousand years, scorched 
by the sun, smitten by the wind and the rain, flagellated 
by war, corroded, worm-eaten, decayed, falling every- 
where into ruin. 

Peking, whose very name is a spell! Who that saw 
the ancient Chinese Capital at the end of the century 
just past, can forget the splendour of her squalor ? Bar- 
baric old Mother of millions, changed to the aspect of 
some filthy witch, yet, for all her weather-beaten rags 
and senile decrepitude, retaining something venerable 
and august, — aye, wearing still a kind of glory, reminis- 
cent of the fierce old Tartar days when the magnificence 
of the Mongol Khans with their resplendent palaces, 
painted in hot vermilion, and dazzling green and yellow, 
set all the world, agog! Ser Marco Polo came to see 
her in those times, and departed amazed, proclaiming 
her gorgeous and honourable beyond compare. And if 
in these latter days she has fallen from that goodly 
renown, she has yet known how to turn her very dingi- 
ness into beauty, to make art of her rubbish heaps, so 
that under the spell of her sorcery, one may still be- 
lieve oneself in the city of an Arabian Nights^ tale. 

Heaven knows ! there are plenty of dragons about to 
give warrant to such an illusion, — dragons on every 
hand, and monsters more inconceivable still. For all 
the ancient Buddhist forms of evil are here multiplied 
with persistent accuracy of detail ; they leer at you from 

151 


152 


THE EED LANTERN 


steep old roofs and coppery walls, from the gilt-lace 
carvings of the shop-fronts, from the marble balustrades 
of crumbling old bridges; from bas-reliefs of battling 
chimaeras on pagoda and tomb, — yes, and from the very 
tea-cup you drink from, until you look to see if the sky 
itself is not about to rain down claws and horns and 
eyes! 

The forms, colours, sounds, and smells of the city seem 
in Peking to be exaggerated, intensified to the point of 
fantasy; one has the impression of moving down the 
streets to the air of a capriccio. Reeking native scents 
assail the nostrils; the eternal dust which drifts into 
the city unceasingly from the Gobi Desert powders the 
lips with fine red grit; the ears are slaughtered by a 
constant din. Gongs beat, dogs yap; tinkers, peddlers, 
and cobblers give out the same trade calls which for 
centuries have seemed to mock the cries of hungry 
hyenas on scent over the steppes of Siberia. But it is 
most of all the eyes that are continually astonished. 
All the bizarre shapes and colours of the world seem to 
have gathered themselves together in the streets of Pe- 
king. Yet never is there a' lack of harmony. In the 
dingiest alley, showing a tangled vista of broken door- 
ways, sheds, and irregular painted balconies, there will 
suddenly flash out some marvellous picture worthy of a 
Rembrandt. It may be no more than a tinker, mending 
a jug with the curious tools of his trade, or a naked baby 
playing with his amulet in a streak of sunshine, falling 
on him through the cleft of some old wall, — the lines 
and the colouring are perfect. 

In the great arteries of the city, the main thorough- 
fares are raised three feet or more from the level of the 
big shops, and are often edged for a mile with pawn 
bazaars. On the stands of these bazaars among much 
rubbish and filth, one catches, now and then, the green 
glimmer of jade, or the gleam of some matchless silk, 
or stops to examine admirable pieces of cloisonne com* 


THE GREAT SWORD 


153 


ing perhaps from some chill, abandoned old palace. 
Under tents patched in rags of a hundred shapes and 
colours, are the booths of sweetmeat venders with wares 
so seductive to school boys. Blue-frocked squads of 
them pause to exchange a few tightly-clenched cash for 
a wistaria-blossom cake or some honied dates, and then 
pass on, reciting long passages from Confucius in sing- 
song monotone. Their classic tongues become especially 
glib as they scud by the wayside shrines where oily old 
priests with yellow skull caps sit in dumb guard over 
squatting Buddhas. Safely past these sphinxes, they 
may flick mud-balls with renewed pleasure at the pigs 
and beggars huddled together in penned or open misery, 
or make grimaces at the dragons agape at the moon, 
painted in red and black on the sides of coffins, which, 
according to some immemorial custom, one must sup- 
pose, stand in the streets waiting their tenants like 
canal-barges in line before a lock. 

These booths and bazaars make a street within the 
street. The big shops themselves, extending on a lower 
level and in a broader parallel, have entire facades of 
gilt-lace carving, tarnished by dust and age to dull cop- 
per tints which set into high relief their flaming sign- 
boards inscribed with huge scarlet and green characters. 
Inside, are the counters and shelves piled with rich 
merchandise, and the fat, grave merchants in long 
neutral-coloured tunics, who wear immense spectacles 
framed in tortoise shell, and who count eternally on an 
abacus. 

Animals and vehicles crowd the raised middle-street 
or causeway between the two lines of tents and bazaars. 
Here are travelling litters from the provinces swung 
. between belled and caparisoned mules, swaying rhyth- 
mically as they pass. Sometimes whole families travel 
in these huge suspended boxes, — father, mother, and 
little ones, crowded in together with their bedding and 
other household effects. They are perhaps bound for 


154 


THE RED LANTERN 


one of the sea-port towns in the south, or they are mak- 
ing their way homeward to some remote province of the 
interior. It is pleasant to listen to their jangling bells, 
and follow in imagination their slow progress to the ' 
four corners of that vast empire which lies beyond 
the city walls. Less noisy than these mule-litters, are 
the long caravans of Mongolian camels and dromedaries, 
hooked together by the nose, which file past laden with 
merchandise, or bestridden by wild looking men in 
sheepskins. Mammoth creatures, they are, furred 
thickly, with long brown hair falling over their shoul- 
ders and humps, and soft eyes like a Creole woman’s. 
The great flat cushions of their feet sink into the black 
soil of the road so noiselessly that sometimes a whole 
train of them will loom up before a sound is heard, pass- 
ing like huge spectres into the dust-veiled distance. In 
contrast to their great majestic hulks, are little donkeys 
almost crushed beneath the weight of rustic straddlers, 
toiling meekly along by the side of wheelbarrows and 
wagons, carrying rice, vegetables and fruit from the 
country. And in and out, everywhere, among the other 
vehicles, go the brisk, two-wheeled, blue-covered Peking- 
ese carts, springless but serviceable, carrying their bour- 
geois passengers for a few cash to any point in the city. 

At times, both animals and vehicles will suddenly 
line themselves up at the edge of the street to wait the 
passage of some stately mandarin in sedan-chair, 
guarded behind and before by outriders who lash right 
and left with long whips to clear the road for their 
peacock-feathered chief. 

Or perhaps it is the mandarin’s daughter who is tak- 
ing the air. A small olive hand parts the heavy cur- 
tains of the litter; a little head, with a girl’s jewelled 
fillet across the brow, peers out: an order is given to 
the chair-bearers; they stop, and the silken draperies 
are held aside entirely for a moment in front of a street 
performance of marionettes. At some sprightly act of 


THE GREAT SWORD 


155 


the puppets, there is a fine glittering of almond eyes, a 
flash of white teeth between rouged lips, a girlish laugh ; 
then the curtains of the sedan drop and you are left 
to wonder over little Miss Pinched-Toes within. 

In contrast with such pleasant vanity, a funeral pro- 
cession advances to a dirge in minor key. Chanting 
priests beat gongs in slow cadence, groups of white- 
robed mourners, wailing and tearing their clothes, 
throw into the air tinsel money, and burn in the middle 
of the street huge paper palaces for the soul of the dead 
to use in some sort of astral existence beyond the grave ; 
while beggarly venals bearing embroidered umbrellas 
and gold and crimson standards attend closely on the 
heels of the mourners. Last, through a cloud of dust 
and incense, comes the bier, — gaunt, blood-red, enor- 
mous — carried heavily on the shoulders of men. In the 
same manner, a thousand years ago, the venerated an- 
cestor of the dead went to his long home. And the 
ancestors of those yapping curs in the tail of the pro- 
cession, yapped just so, no doubt, in the days of Kublai 
Khan ; and then, as now, the descendants of men treated 
them with toleration as the temporary dwelling places 
of wicked ancestral souls on their way through countless 
asons of reincarnation to spheral Nirvana. 

Such is Peking ! The brain is bewildered with a sense 
of life distorted, in the highest degree unreal. The fan- 
tastic palaces, pagodas, and temples, visible from a dis- 
tance over the tops of gigantic walls, seem like dwellings 
of strange gods, loveless and removed, to whom all the 
children of the streets have become as grasshoppers. 


r 


II 


I T was the night of the Feast of Lanterns, held in 
honour of the first full moon of the Chinese New Year. 
By the Christian calendar, the date was the 14th of 
February, A. D. 1900. For a month past, according to 
the immemorial custom at the beginning of the year, 
old Cathay had turned to jubilation with an abandon- 
ment only completely realisable in a man’s or nation’s 
second childhood; and now, on this night of the full 
moon, Peking was a city of illusions in the vacillation 
of a million coloured lanterns, whose lights mingled 
with the pale lunar rays. 

The lanterns, made of paper, silk, cloth, glass, horn, 
basket-work and bamboo, were of strange and beautiful 
forms, varying in size from the dimensions of a walnut 
to globes fifteen feet in diameter. Besides all the geo- 
metric figures, there were models of fishes, fowls, and 
reptiles, with eyes and tongues of flame; and in more 
elaborate design, arbours and pavilions brilliantly illu- 
minated from within, over whose elfin parapets leaned 
elegant little dolls, — palace courtiers, fine ladies and 
dancing girls, — all set in frantic motion by every gust 
of wind; a feast of lanterns, indeed, as the marvelling 
Magaillans describes it, when ‘‘You shall see horses run, 
draw chariots and till the earth; vessels sailing, kings 
and princes go in and out with large trains, and great 
numbers of people both a-foot and a-horseback, armies 
marching, comedies, dances, and a thousand other di- 
vertissements and motions represented.” Ever and 
anon, one of the flimsy structures would blaze up, burn 
a few seconds, and go out in fine white smoke. 

Through the rainbow blur of light emanating from 

156 


THE GREAT SWORD 


157 


the myriad lanterns, the details of the streets and build- 
ings were lost; they became to the eye mere patches of 
colour, hallucination of form, against which faces and 
gesticulating hands appeared as wild silhouettes. And 
in imitation of the fantastic scene below, the sky itself, 
as the night descended, began to blaze with extravagant 
imaginings. Rockets raced to the zenith and burst into 
splendid temples and pagodas of flame, or formed them- 
selves into shapes of gods and warriors riding mightily 
on chariots of fire. Once a rocket more brilliant than 
usual rose in feverish crescendo, broke above a certain 
great thoroughfare of the city, and hung for a full min- 
ute in space. It was the figure of the great Yellow 
Dragon of China, let loose, it would seem, by sudden 
magic from the bowels of the earth, to soar aloft an in- 
stant in the firmament where all the inhabitants of the 
Middle Kingdom might gaze at it and tremble. In each 
of its five talons was suspended a globe of light of dif- 
fering hueS’ — red, blue, orange, green and purple ; from 
its nostrils violet flames poured forth, and between its 
wide-open jaws hung a fiery moon; the scales of its back 
were like a golden coat of mail, and its scarlet eyes were 
furious as those of a creature drunk with blood. The 
Chinese guttural broke into harsh delight at the splen- 
did apparition, and thousands of upturned eyes watched 
until it paled and died in the sky. Then followed a 
confused hum of voices. 

Where did it rise from?’^ 

‘‘The Ha-Ta Gate. There’s a great magician there.” 

“ Yes, a veritable wonder-worker. They say he’s one 
of the members of the I Ho Ch’uan who are going to 
kill off all the foreign devils in the country. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ A true patriot then ! Let ’s go and see him. ’ ’ 

There were bursts of staccato laughter, the scuffling 
of thousands of feet, and the tide of human heads had 
set towards the enormous portal at the end of the street. 


in 


Ha-Ta Gate, terminus of the Ha-Ta Great Street, 
over which the yellow dragon had appeared, pierces 
at a point to the southeast the Tartar wall that divides 
the Chinese and the Manchu cities. It is one of the 
most colossal of the many colossal gateways in the 
stupendous black ramparts of Peking. The gate is a 
deadly thing, with double tunnel-like arches surmounted 
by mammoth towers above a gaunt enclosing wall. The 
large quadrangular space between the double openings 
is the nightly rendezvous of scores of scurvy beggars 
shivering in their blue cotton rags ; while perched above 
them, along the wall, and on the fantastic curved roofs 
of the big towers, multitudes of crows make the air 
hideous with their cawing. 

But on this night of the Feast of Lanterns, the scene 
was far more brilliant. Already the square was filled 
with a throng of Celestials in gala dress and spirits, and 
more were continually crowding in from the street be- 
yond. Here, as elsewhere, thousands of lanterns 
gleamed in mid-air; so many, indeed, as to form almost 
a complete canopy of light above the heads of the people. 

The centre of this luminous canopy was directly 
above a platform which had been raised in the middle 
of the square. The lanterns, which were strung on 
ropes stretched across from tower to tower, and from 
the angles of the enclosing wall, merged here in a glow- 
ing nebula which cast a myriad coloured rays upon the 
face and figure of the man who stood on the platform. 

He looked like one of those uncouth genii of Old 
Asia that are said still to lurk in company with the 

158 


THE GREAT SWORD 


159 


Old Man of the Mountains in the fastnesses of inaccessi- 
ble ranges. His features were grotesquely large — of an 
almost pure Mongolian cast; his frame was unusually 
powerful, the hands and feet enormous. From under 
the close fitting round hat of the middle class native, a 
long black queue hung down his back. In front of him, 
rapid spirals of red smoke turned and twisted upward 
from a large bronze censer, writhing under the galaxy 
of lanterns, and along the edge of the platform among 
squat images of antique war divinities set there in a 
row, enveloping with sinuous wreaths the man in the 
centre, and coiling like a serpent about the bottles and 
glasses containing chemicals which littered a table be- 
side him. 

Below him, the people were packing themselves into 
an almost impenetrable mass; hundreds were squatted 
along the enclosing wall of the square; even the roofs 
were tufted with human heads. Under the influence 
of the man's voice, these who had come to see a “je- 
nao," a mere frolic of the holiday season, were rapidly 
catching the contagion of his hate. 

‘‘Hear, now, the sacred Edict, issued by the Lord of 
Wealth and Happiness," he cried in a loud voice, and 
as silence fell upon the people, he read from a huge 
placard, intoning the phrases sonorously. 

“The Catholic and Protestant religions being insolent 
to the gods, and extinguishing sanctity, rendering no 
obedience to Buddha, and enraging Heaven and Earth, 
the rain-clouds no longer visit us; but eight million 
spirit soldiers will descend from Heaven and sweep the 
Empire clean of all foreigners. Then will the gentle 
showers once more water our lands ; and when the tread 
of soldiers and the clash of steel are heard heralding 
woes to all our people, then the Buddhist Patriotic 
League of Boxers will be able to protect the Empire and 
to bring peace to all its people." 


160 


THE RED LANTERN 


“The Patriotic League of Boxers! Sweep the Em- 
pire clean of foreigners!’’ echoed the crowd as if giving 
the response to a litany. 

The man stepped to the edge of the platform and con- 
tinued the recitative. 

“Hasten, then,” he cried, “to spread this doctrine 
far and wide, for if you gain one adherent to the faith 
your own person will be absolved from all future mis- 
fortunes. If you gain five adherents your whole family 
will be absolved from all evils, and if you gain ten ad- 
herents your whole village (or neighbourhood) will be 
absolved from all calamities. Those who gain no ad- 
herents to the cause shall be decapitated, for until all 
foreigners have been exterminated the rain can never 
visit us. Those who have been so unfortunate as to 
have drunk water from wells poisoned by foreigners 
should at once make use of the following Divine Pre- 
scription, the ingredients of which are to be decocted 
and swallowed, when the poisoned patient will recover: 

Dried black plums . * half an ounce 

Solanum dulcamara . half an ounce 

Liquorice root . . half an ounce.” 

There was an indescribable buzzing of voices repeat- 
ing, “Liquorice, half an ounce; solanum dulcamara, 
half an ounce ; dried plums, half an ounce, ’ ’ — each item 
emphasised by curses against the “foreign devils who 
poison the wells.” The man on the platform suddenly 
averted his face, and the gods, no doubt, saw his smile. 
But when he turned again no trace of it remained. He 
took up a second “Edict” and read from it. 

“Foreign devils come with their teaching and con- 
verts to Christianity, Roman Catholic and Protestant, 
have become numerous. These churches are without 
human relations, but being most cunning have attracted 
all the greedy and covetous as converts, and to an un- 
limited degree they have practised oppression, until 


THE GREAT SWORD 


161 


every good official has been corrupted, and, covetous of 
foreign wealth, has become their servant, so telegraphs 
have been established, foreign rifles and guns have been 
manufactured, and machine-shops have been a delight 
to their evil nature. Locomotives, balloons, electric 
lamps, the foreign devils think excellent. Though these 
foreigners ride in sedans unbefitting their rank, China 
yet regards them as barbarians of whom God disap- 
proved, and He is sending down spirits and genii for 
their destruction.’’ 

^‘Sha! Sha! (kill! kill!) ” cried the people. 

A big fellow rose from the wall, and balancing him- 
self perilously, shouted: “We will make you our 
leader!” 

The speaker smiled and bowed in his direction, then 
continued : 

“The first of these powers which has already de- 
scended is the Light of the Red Lamp and the Volun- 
teer Associated Fists who will have a fight with the 
devils. They will burn down the foreign buildings and 
restore the temples. Foreign goods of every variety 
they will destroy. They will extirpate the evil demons, 
and establish right teaching, — the honour of the spirits 
and the sages: they will cause their sacred teaching 
to flourish. — The purpose of Heaven is fixed. A clean 
sweep is to be made.” 

Again the crowd echoed: “A clean sweep is to be 
made. Sha! Sha! (kill! kill!) Shao! Shao! (burn! 
burn !) ” Pig-tailed heads wagged angrily : oblique black 
eyes glistened in the iridescent murk. 

The countenance of the speaker suddenly became 
rapt. With a violent gesture, he pulled open his tunic 
and revealed the red sash of the I Ho Ch’uan, and 
catching up a great sword, whirled it above his head. 

‘ ‘ I am a Boxer ! ” he cried aloud, ^ ‘ and the Great Fairy 
has made me invulnerable. That you may believe what 
I say, I will now conjure Him to appear from this cen- 
11 


162 


THE EED LANTERN 


ser, and in His presence I will swallow this sword. If 
in the trial, a drop of blood be spilled from my body, 
let all the multitude rush forward and put me to death. ’ ’ 

There was a joyous roar. “The Great Fairy of the 
I Ho Ch’uan is going to appear!” 

The man took two bottles from the table and poured 
their contents simultaneously into the censer. Instantly 
he was surrounded by high lurid flames. From them 
his voice came in weird incantation. 

“Imperial Heaven, Revered Ancients, The Cave of 
the Five Buddhas A Mi T’o Fo, upper eight genii, 
middle eight, lower eight, A Mi T’o Fo, come and in- 
struct me, A Mi T’o Fo, Honourable Ruler of Heaven, 
come and instruct me, A Mi T’o Fo — Holy Mother of 
the three Genii, T’ang Seng, Sha Seng, Pa Chieh, Wu 
K’ung, I do not know which reverent Teacher will visit 
my humble place.” 

He dropped a fire cracker into the flames. “Great 
Fairy! quickly come at my command!” 

There was a loud explosion. Then from the censer 
issued a shape which grew larger and larger until it 
stood superhuman before magician and people. The 
colour of it was blood-red; and its habiliments were 
those of a warrior; in one mighty hand, it upheld a 
great sword like those used by the Boxers; the other 
formed itself into a terrible fist which seemed to menace 
destruction. 

‘ ' The Great Fairy ! The Great Fairy ! ’ ’ the cry went 
up again and again. The spectacle was, indeed, one to 
throw into a frenzy of delight these true Children of the 
East whose colossal naivete is matched only by their 
credulity. 

“Now swallow the sword for us in his presence!” 

In the midst of the shouting, the red sedan of a high 
mandarin was borne through the throng. At the com- 
mand of its occupant, the chair-bearers halted several 


THE GREAT SWORD 


163 


feet from the platform just as the magician lifted the 
sword to his mouth. 

“A Mi T’o Fo/’ he said thrice, prostrating himself 
each time before the flaming image; at the last repeti-- 
tion, the enormous blade disappeared down his throat! 
Then, slowly, he drew it out unstained, and when the 
sanguine Fairy had vanished, stood smiling before the 
people. 

They cheered him vociferously and cried out for an- 
other miracle. But before he had time to reply, two 
men burst through the crowd and came straight towards 
the platform. These men, though dressed in the dirty 
sheepskins of Mongols from the northern steppes, con- 
formed neither in physiognomy nor in manner to a pure 
Asiatic type. They were without queues, and were 
somewhat lighter in complexion than the Chinese about 
them. When they had come to the edge of the plat- 
form, the magician bent eagerly over it. 

^‘When?’^ he asked, not waiting for them to speak. 

“In less than two minutes.’’ 

“Good.” 

He straightened himself and addressed the people. 

“You desire another sign, and you shall have one,” 
he said, “for you show yourselves to be true and loyal, 
ready to uphold the Patriotic League of Boxers when 
they shall come a few months hence to destroy the ac- 
cursed foreigner.” 

“Yes! yes! — to destroy the accursed foreigner!” the 
litany continued. 

“For this reason,” resumed the magician, smiling 
again, “ the Goddess of the Red Lantern Light, the 
greatest female divinity of our Holy League, has gra- 
ciously vouchsafed to show herself this night. Watch 
now through the gate as I speak the words of the divine 
incantation and you will see her approach.” 

He turned on the platform until he was directly 


164 


THE BED LANTERN 


facing the enormous tunnel-like opening which led into 
the city. Every head in the crowd turned with his. 

‘ ‘ Oh, hear, ^ ’ he cried, his voice falling into a rhythmic 
chant, ‘Hhe instructions from the God Mi T’o to his 
disciples — proclaiming upon every mountain by the An- 
cient Teachers — reverently inviting the Gods from the 
Central Southern Mountain, from the Central Eight 
Caves — to preserve China and destroy foreigners. The 
Iron Lo Han if cut with knife, or chopped with axe, 
there will be no trace. Cannon cannot injure, water 
cannot drown. If I urgently invite the gods, they 
will quickly come, if I tardily invite them they will 
tardily come — from their seats in every mountain cave ; 
Ancient Teachers, Venerable Mother, do quickly as I 
command. — Let the Goddess of the Red Lantern Light 
now appear!^’ 

As he ended, he stretched out his arm over the crowd, 
now changed to a motionless mass, and pointed through 
the gate as at a vision. 

Beyond it, down the Ha-Ta Great Street, swept a wild 
band of female forms, clad entirely in red, — red tunics, 
red shoes on their feet, red cloths wound about their 
heads, red banners in their hands which they uplifted 
towards a tall central figure borne in an open red 
palanquin. The troop advanced swiftly with an in- 
describable rhythm, — lithe bodies swinging in unison 
with a weird chant in minor key, arms brandishing 
swords and spears, as if in a frenzied desire to fight. 
As they came nearer, it could be seen that the figures 
were those of young girls between the ages of ten and 
twenty, let loose in the streets at night in defiance 
of all the recognised proprieties of the Middle King- 
dom. 

For a moment the colossal gate held them; then they 
emerged abruptly into the square, and at the same in- 
stant their divinity loomed into full view. Arrayed in 
scarlet, with ebony-black hair forming a braided cowl 


THE GREAT SWORD 


165 


about her head, and heavy oval lids downcast as one 
in a hypnotic trance, she sat rigid as a gilded idol. In 
the right hand she held a great sword; in the left she 
upbore an enormous red lantern like a bloody sun which 
sets before a tempest. And suddenly, coming under the 
full rays of the million overhanging lights, she blazed 
into a thing of scintillating iridescent flame. 

A long awed murmur broke from the multitude. 
Even for a people ready to see new divinities rise from 
the very rice and flsh of life, this was an astonishing 
apparition. Slowly the great undulating sea of blue 
tunics parted to let the palanquin pass to the platform. 
Then a prolonged shout of ecstasy arose. 

“Hung Teng Chou! Hung Teng Chou! (Red Lan- 
tern Light.) ’’ 

“Goddess of the Red Lantern Light!’’ The shout 
went up everywhere. 

The palanquin was lifted upon the platform and set 
facing the people, the red-robed girls grouping them- 
selves about it. The magician made a low obeisance to 
the straight seated flgure; then waved his hand to the 
crowd. ' 

“Our Goddess will now receive the oath of allegiance 
from those who desire to become leaders in the Buddhist 
Patriotic League of Boxers,” he cried. Immediately, 
as if by prearrangement, a dozen men mounted the 
platform and formed a circle about the palanquin. 
Among them were the two men in sheepskins. 

When they were in their places, the magician raised 
the Great Sword of the Boxers. At the signal, the 
twelve candidates for leadership opened their tunics, as 
the juggler had previously done, and displayed the red 
sash of the I Ho Ch’uan; at a second signal, they 
dropped to their knees and kowtowed three times before 
the rigid flgure in the palanquin. At the same time 
the maidens knelt, extending sticks of burning incense, 
and still chanting their hymn in minor key. Only the 


166 


THE KED LANTERN 


magician remained standing with his eyes fixed on the 
divinity’s face. 

Up to this moment, the Goddess had shown no more 
life than a graven image. But suddenly a shudder 
passed through her: then slowly, as if in obedience to 
some hypnotic spell, she arose, and, stepping out of the 
sedan with the Great Sword and Red Lantern still up- 
lifted in her hands, spoke in a distinct and level voice. 
The chanting of the girls and the murmurs of the crowd 
sank to silence. 

“I, the Goddess of the Red Lantern Light, called 
from my home in the Eight Central Caves, from the 
Central Southern Mountain, do quickly hasten at the 
words of the divine incantation to preserve China and 
destroy foreigners. And with me I bring mortal maid- 
ens, whom I have endued with power to ride upon the 
clouds, and point out the dwelling places of the foreign 
demons and their friends. From the clouds, they shall 
kindle fires which shall harm none but those proscribed. 
From the clouds, they shall cause the iron battle ships 
of the enemy to burn like tinder. Let those who desire 
proof, fix their gaze attentively upon the sun at its 
setting; then wherever the eye turns, shall be seen the 
magic light of the Red Lantern whose power shall con- 
quer the foreigners.” She paused; then continued in 
a louder voice. 

Those who would now become leaders in the divine 
Society of the Great Sword, shall take the oath of alle- 
giance before me.” 

At once, the twelve men joined hands, and spoke in 
chorus as in a sort of chant. 

“By Imperial Heaven, by the Revered Ancients, by 
the Cave of the Five Buddhas, A Mi T’o Fo, w^e swear 
to protect the Empire and extermine foreigners.” 
Again they kowtowed thrice. 

The Goddess stepped back to the palanquin, whence, 
enthroned, she distributed twelve great swords to the 


THE GREAT SWORD 


167 


' « 

maidens in red, who in turn placed them in the hands 
of the newly-sworn braves as they arose from their 
knees. Then with the eyes of the magician still rivetted 
upon her, she raised aloft her Great Sword and Lantern, 
and spoke in a loud voice, yet as if under some strange 
compulsion. 

‘‘Hear now in turn, 0 Warriors, the oath of thy 
Goddess. By the sacred head of my father, Kwanti, 
seated upon the Central Southern Mountain, I do swear 
to lead you to victory and drive every foreigner in 
China into the sea. And if I fail, then shall I become 
a mortal and die by my own hand ; for such is the will of 
the gods.” 

As she ended, her heavy lids lifted and the blue eyes 
of the Goddess met the gaze of the magician. Then 
at his order, before the silent throng, the palanquin was 
raised by the red-robed girls: and waving his hand to 
signify that the ceremony was over, he jumped upon a 
horse which had been tethered to the platform and 
rode after the Divinity. As they passed out of the gate 
into the city, the suspense of the people broke, and a 
great shouting followed. 

“Hung Teng Chou! Hung Teng Chou! Ride upon 
the clouds, girls ! Kill the foreign devils for us ! Burn 
down their houses! Set fire to their ships. Prove the 
power of the Magic Red Lantern! Sha! Sha! Shao! 
Shao ! ’ ’ 

The two men in sheepskins, still standing on the 
platform, stared after the retreating figures. The face 
of one, a young giant with reddish hair, darkened as 
he turned to his companion and spoke in English. 

“Did you see her face? My God! What a mask! 
And his eyes — they’re on fire for her! I’m going to 
follow,” he suddenly announced. 

But his companion put a detaining hand on him. 

“Wait, here comes somebody.” 

It was one of the chair-bearers of the mandarin in 


168 


THE RED LANTERN 


the red sedan, who said that his master wished to speak 
with them. 

When they were by the sedan, the mandarin leaned 
out, placed two taels of silver in the hand of each, at 
the same time giving them a long slip of red paper — 
his visiting card — upon which was a name and an ad- 
dress. 

‘ ‘ Follow, ’ ’ he said pointing after the palanquin, ‘ ‘ and 
bring the girl to my house to-night. ’ ’ 

The men glanced at the card, started, bowed low, and 
in an instant more were lost in the luminous blur of the 
night. 


IV 


I T was nearing midnight. The palanquin of the God- 
dess of the Ked Lantern Light stood empty in a 
small court off East Bell Street. The red-robed girls 
had scattered to their homes. In her room next to the 
dispensary, Mahlee was alone with Sam Wang. 

On entering, the girl had lighted a lamp and called 
aloud for Huang-ma. There had been no response; she 
had renewed her calling and, lamp in hand, had searched 
in a sort of panic all the rooms off the court-yard. 
But her efforts had been fruitless, and something in 
Wang’s expression made her sure that he was responsi- 
ble for the old servant’s absence at this late hour. She 
tried to hide her nervou«ess but her heart beat thickly 
with a premonition that at last the issue between them 
had come. 

He had seated himself without invitation, removing 
his Chinese hat with its attachment of false queue which 
he had worn as magician, and leaning his arms indo- 
lently upon a table; but the jet-like brightness of his 
eyes as they rested upon her, belied the slothfulness of 
his attitude. It gave him the aspect of a big crouching 
animal, waiting the moment for the forward spring. 

She spoke as lightly as she could, affecting the Occi- 
dental woman of the world, in strange contrast with 
her recent role. 

“Thank you. Dr. Wang, for your escort back. I am 
glad you liked my ‘interpretation’ as Miss Sackville 
would call it, of the Boxer Goddess. Do you think I 
might succeed on the stage in Europe or America?” 
Her tone assumed a playfulness which she was far from 
feeling. “But,” she added, with a strained smile, with- 

169 


170 


THE EED LANTERN 


out waiting for an answer, ‘^you are responsible for 
my success to-night. I believe you hypnotised me, for 
otherwise, I should never have had the courage to go 
through my part. It has been a good night’s work. 
But you must be tired now and in need of sleep. 
Huang-ma, no doubt, went to see the lanterns and has 
found someone in the street to gossip with; but I am 
sure she will be back in a few minutes, and meanwhile, 
I am not in the least afraid to be alone.” 

She made the slightest possible inclination of her 
head towards the door, as if he might now be permitted 
to depart. As he did not move, but continued to gaze 
at her she repeated with visible agitation, ‘‘You must 
be very tired. Please do not think it necessary to stay 
with me. Huang-ma is sure to be in at any moment 
now, and I shall not be afraid alone. ’ ’ 

She knew that she was making it more and more evi- 
dent at each word, that she was afraid of being with 
him. How her airs of grande dame, so natural before 
others, and so imposing, too, vanished before this man, 
leaving her to feel how really weak she was ! He smiled 
— as she was sure he would — the gleam of ironic humour 
seeming to slide obliquely down his eyes and settle in 
their corners. 

“I am not tired,” he said. “And Huang-ma is not 
coming back to-night.” 

‘ ‘ Not coming back ! ’ ’ she echoed, feeling with a tight- 
ening of the throat, that her conjecture had been cor- 
rect, and that the dreaded thing was upon her. She 
started up. “Then I must go at once to the mission,” 
she said emphatically, “for I dare not stay here alone.” 

She was heedless of the fact that she was giving the 
lie to her former words and began to make hurried 
movements in preparation for going out again. Me- 
chanically she seized upon hat and gloves and an- 
nounced herself as ready. 

“Will you go to the mission in that dress?” asked 


THE GREAT SWORD 


171 


Sam Wang, smiling again, and still remaining in his 
seat. 

Her eyes fell upon her red habiliments, and she 
laughed with a pretence of gaiety. 

‘ ‘ Oh, I ’d forgotten ! I wonder if Mrs. Parmelee would 
find them ‘stylish.^ But, of course, I must change. 
Will you excuse me for a few moments?’^ She was 
going towards an inner room, when he rose and placed 
his big frame between her and the door. 

‘‘Mahlee, you will stay here to-night, and I will bear 
you company.” 

For a moment, his masterfulness almost subdued her. 
If she had not felt his hot breath upon her, she might 
have taken his words as the promise of a strong man 
to protect a lonely woman. Indeed, when she found 
wit enough to answer, she assumed that to be their mean- 
ing. 

“I am grateful to you,” she said quietly, controlling 
her fear, ‘‘but I think it will be best to go to the mis- 
sion.” 

He suddenly burst out laughing. “Go to the mis- 
sion!” he cried, in the mocking tone she knew. “Are 
you quite daft, girl?” 

As she stood speechless before him, he repeated, 
though more gently, “Are you mad, child? Don’t 
you realise that after to-night’s performance, you’ve 
burnt your ships behind you, — ^turned your back for- 
ever on your old life, that the Ark of the Covenant 
Mission and all its holy inmates must be for you hence- 
forth as if they had never existed? Your only home 
now is with me.” 

The note of triumph in his last words was mingled 
with an accent of true feeling. He opened his huge 
arms to her as if he would invite, rather than compel, her 
to come to him. 

But she remained motionless. For as he spoke, a 
sudden chasm seemed to open before her^, — a deep un- 


172 


THE RED LANTERN 


bridgeable gulf parting her from her past. — And there 
on its brink the revenge which she had so eagerly 
planned and begun to execute that night against An- 
drew Handel — against her father’s race — seemed all 
at once to have turned against herself like some inex- 
orable Fury. She remembered her lately sworn oath 
taken under the hypnotic influence of Sam Wang’s eyes. 
She saw now the broad expanse of his yellow face bent 
towards her, his uncouth arms stretched out to her, — 
his words still sounded in her ears: “You have burnt 
your ships behind you. . . . Your only home now is 

with me.” 

A sob of terror formed in her throat, but she choked 
it back and continued motionless. Indeed, her still- 
ness was so absolute that it acted upon him as an in- 
definable check which kept his arms extended like pet- 
rified things without immediate power to close about 
her. Was it her brooding stare, — ^lids high uplifted, 
irides showing pale blue in the lamp-light from under 
the thick massed braids, — which held him in a sort of 
spell? Or the helplessness, the hint of frailty in the 
slender scarlet-robed form which touched within him 
some obscure barbaric chivalry, and made him hold off 
for a moment? 

“Girl! Girl!” he burst out at last in thick guttural, 
the sweat breaking from all the pores of .his big face 
at once. “Do you know what it is to roll and toss on 
your bed night after night with your blood boiling in 
your arteries, your head in flames, your teeth gnawing 
your hands until they’re raw? — or to get up and walk 
leagues at midnight in the Peking streets, devoured 
by a hunger so ravening, a thirst so unquenchable that 
the very beggars and scavenger-dogs pity you? No!” 
he cried. “You do not know, you cannot guess. Yet 
this, and infinitely more, you have made me suffer: for 
my hunger, my thirst, the daily and nightly fever of 
my flesh and my blood,— yes, and of my soul, for I, too, 


THE GREAT SWORD 


173 


have a soul — are for you. You^ you/’ he repeated in 
a tone which was almost menacing. “Do you under- 
stand ? ’ ’ 

He came nearer, and she believed that now inevitably 
his arms must lock her in. With the anticipation, so 
sick a trembling seized her that she felt that she would 
fall. But to her amazement, he suddenly crouched at 
her knees. 

“Love me, love me,’’ he whined, his yellow face tak- 
ing on an almost haggard aspect, his small oblique eyes 
filling with tears, the first perhaps of his life. “If you 
knew how the thought of you has possessed me for 
months, — how, everywhere, — always — I am haunted by 
your little face in its black hood of hair, your strange 
eyes, your golden skin, the white gleam of your teeth 
between your red lips ! Always — everywhere — until 
you have become a frenzy, a madness, an insatiable de- 
sire. 

He held up towards her great quivering hands, but 
his voice grew stronger in his pleading. 

“Mahlee! Mahlee! We were born for each other! 
What can your frigid sickly-faced ascetic understand of 
your charm? No, the West has repudiated you as it 
has me, but to-night, as true children of the East we 
have begun our revenge together, nor shall we stop 
until we have purged our mother-land from the accursed 
race of our fathers. Yes, yes, you were born for me, 
girl. Are we not of the same despised breed? Who 
else can understand you as I do? Your sufferings, your 
moods, even your music, I recognise, I know, for they 
are all my own. The very odour of our two bodies is 
alike. I catch it from you now, and it maddens me. 
Yet something, I know not what, makes me beg for that 
which I could so easily take. Tell me once, once only 
that you love me and I am your slave.” 

But the word brought him suddenly to his feet! 
“Slave!” he cried. “Think of it! I, Sam Wang, your 


174 


THE RED LANTERN 


slave/’ He stressed the pronoun with almost insolent 
violence. ^^You, a frail weak thing, hold me in bondage. 
Just look at me! — these hands,” — he spread them men- 
acingly toward her — “these feet,” he pointed down at 
them — “I could crush you as easily as a snail’s shell, 
I could trample you to powder. Yet I beg from you like 
a dog; for a word of love, I am your bond servant.” 

He was so close now that his breath scorched her face. 
His eyes at once threatened and besought her. Then, 
suddenly, as they stood there, she saw them fill again, 
and the tears overflowing, run down his broad flat 
cheeks. “Love me! love me!” he whispered hoarsely 
once more. 

At the spectacle of him thus she felt the tension of her 
nerves breaking. He seemed to her like some gargoyle, 
some montrous grotesque in love. But with a supreme 
effort she achieved a tone of languid amusement as of 
a great lady looking on at a farce. 

“Bravo! Dr. Wang,” and her lip curled ever so 
slightly. “ ^The play’s the thing.’ ” 

It was a fatal note. For an instant he remained as if 
he had been turned to stone. Then, very deliberately, 
he stretched his frame to its full height and squared him- 
self above her. His face was redoubtable. All the 
Oriental’s contempt for woman leered from his slant 
eyes. He opened the door into the inner chamber, and 
when he spoke his tone was that of a Chinese master 
to a rebellious concubine. 

“Go in there,” he said peremptorily. 

She swayed from him like a flame in her red dress — 
a pure, vivid thing, defying pollution. Yet all that she 
could gasp out was a “No! No!” 

“No!” he cried, snatching the long false queue from 
his hat on the table, and curling it like a whip above 
her. “No, did you say? Perhaps we must drive you 
in then.” 

She heard the thing whistle in the air, bowed her back 


THE GREAT SWORD 


175 


for its descent ; then felt a sudden draught from an open- 
ing door, and before she could see where they came from, 
knew that two men had closed with Sam Wang. There 
was a fierce struggle, guttural cries of rage, the smell of 
sheepskin and human sweat, then the heavy thud of 
Wang’s body against the floor. She saw one of the men 
strike him repeatedly on the head with the butt end of 
a revolver, while the other bound his arms and legs. A 
moment more, and Wang lay a huge quivering mass en- 
tirely unconscious. 

The room began to reel before her, yet she did not fall. 
She knew that the lamp was extinguished, that she was 
led out by the two men and placed on the abandoned 
litter. The taller of the men threw off his great cloak 
of sheepskin and wrapped it about her, and she heard 
him say in English : 

^‘Pick up your end, Chung,’’ and the other answer, 
‘‘Heave ahead. Sing.” 

Then they bore her into the deserted streets. 


V 


T he miasmatic stenches of Peking, which at that 
period were almost unendurably foul after sun- 
down, enveloped her. Darkness and pollution, within 
and without, possessed her, absorbed her. She felt as if 
she had sunk into some corrupt bog where the most des- 
perate efforts she could make to free herself, but served 
to engulph her more profoundly. The thousands of 
lanterns which she passed, with their candles now flicker- 
ing in their sockets and emitting the strong odour of 
burning grease, seemed like the unwholesome gleams on 
the fetid surface of her quagmire. The guttural cries to 
each other in the dark, of some belated holiday-makers 
departing at last for their homes, were to her ears as the 
hoarse croaking of monstrous frogs. And everywhere, 
like some hideous black snake suspended from a tree and 
stiffening itself to strike, she saw the false queue of Sam 
•W ang ! 

She sat in the palanquin, not daring to lift her head 
from where it had sunk between the folds of the dirty 
sheepskin cloak, lest the thing should descend upon her. 
Her whole soul was sick with abasement and loathing; 
her loneliness appalled her. Then suddenly like a 
ghostly moon over her bog, swam the face of Andrew 
Handel. Pure, unattainable, it seemed to float fathoms 
high above her in the empyrean. . . . Lofty pallid 

brow shaded by ash-blond hair, eyes pale as opals, yet 
with the same fluctuating fire in them, lips drawn fine 
as a scarlet thread. . . . She stretched her arms up 
to it in her great need. ‘ ' Andrew ! Andrew ! ’ ^ she cried 
in a voice almost extinct, as one drowning who calls for 
succour. 


176 


THE GREAT SWORD 


177 


But beautiful, merciless, it floated still higher, until 
like the dimmest of wraiths it had utterly vanished. 
Then suddenly she broke into peal after peal of self- 
mocking laughter. Her chair-bearers, alarmed, stopped 
the palanquin and ran to her. 

‘ * Go on ! ” she commanded in a loud hard voice, and 
laughed again immoderately. Perceiving that her 
nerves had been unstrung by the late scene, the men 
silently picked up the litter again, and continued the 
route. 

It was nearly dawn when they stopped at last before 
an immense iron-clamped gate and demanded entrance 
in the name of Jung Lu, General-in-chief of the Manchu 
Imperial Army. 

12 


VI 


T he great Mandarin summoned Mahlee into his 
presence the next morning. She had spent the few 
hours which remained of the preceding night with one 
of the tiring-women belonging to the rich house, who 
had been waiting at the gate for her arrival, and had 
taken her at once into the women’s court. Her great 
fatigue had finally overcome her, and she had slept. 
'On awakening, she had been bathed by the tiring- 
woman, anointed with perfumed oils, and arrayed in 
a robe of dull blue silk embroidered about the sleeves 
and hem. Her feet had been encased in satin shoes 
with the high stilt-like central heel worn by Manchus, 
and her fine ears hung with pendants of gold and jade. 
The woman had even begun to arrange Mahlee ’s hair in 
the Manchu coiffure, but the girl, up to this time passive 
under her hands, now objected, and standing before a 
mirror, deftly put back her locks into their usual 
Egyptian-looking braids, from which black, glossy 
tendrils escaped about her forehead and temples. 

Her passivity at this moment was not a pose. She 
had been dazed by the quick change of scene from the 
night before, and what she now experienced was less a 
new feeling than the mere cessation of immediate fear 
which follows escape from one peril before another is 
realised. After her futile cry for succour, had she not 
commanded to be taken on? 

On! — whither? She knew not. She only knew that 
she could never go back, — that a great gulf was fixed 
between to-day and all her yesterdays. It was the gulf 
of which Sam Wang had once spoken, and which she 
had felt yavming before her when he opened his hateful 

178 


THE GREAT SWORD 


179 

arms to her, — that mighty chasm, deeper and wider 
than any sea, which divides the Occidental from the 
Oriental. She had now joined her ancestors on its 
Eastern brink and she could never more return. 

Even her revenge was not merely her own. No! it 
was that of race, of her mother’s race, upon her father’s, 
— the vengeance of old China upon the insolent young 
Europe. Again she recalled her vow. She must now 
learn to think of herself as entirely Chinese, conse- 
crated to free her country from the oppression of the 
stranger. Even Sam Wang’s insults could not make it 
right to retract from that. And if she did retract, to 
whom could she go? Would Andrew Handel receive 
her to-day with more love than he had shown yesterday ? 
Again she burst into her mocking laugh. . . . Ah, 

well, — was not vengeance called sweet? True, its first 
taste had been a witches’ brew on her lips, but whether 
sweet or bitter she could not put aside the cup now ; she 
must drain it to the lees. 

Facing that necessity, her spirits suddenly rose. She 
learned by questioning the tiring-woman, that she was 
in the house of the most powerful military commander 
in China. Already she knew well Jung Lu’s name and 
fame, and at the thought of them now her heart beat 
with a quickened interest. Yet she did not blind herself 
to his probable purpose in bringing her there. Her 
beauty, she guessed, might in its very exotic piquancy, 
make a peculiar appeal to a Chinese general. 

But the element of danger in her present position be- 
gan to fascinate her. Indeed, by a sort of reaction, 
she was soon disposed to take almost whimsically these 
new circumstances into which she found herself so ab- 
ruptly plunged. A certain worldly wisdom — something 
deeply latent in her, pointing back, it almost seemed, to 
a definite heritage, rather than to what might have been 
bred by any direct personal experience, — came now to 
her aid. Even the remembrance of the previous night 


180 


THE RED LANTERN 


did not rob her of confidence; it would be no second 
Sam Wang she would be called upon to handle here. 
For Jung Lu, she had learned, was almost an old man, 
and old men even in great positions were subject to deli- 
cate leading by clever women. She felt that to lead the 
great Manchu so, would be a game worthy of her pow- 
ers, — a game where her grand air would prove her most 
effective defence. Her old boast to Mrs. Templeton 
came again to her mind as she saw herself reflected 
sumptuously in a mirror. “One day I shall be a great 
tai-tai (lady), a very great Here was a chance 

to play her favourite role. 

For a moment, indeed, she was touched to a wistful 
yearning for some larger and truer reality than that 
which any mere game or role could afford her. If her 
whole heart had been in the Cause, how wonderful could 
she make this hour! Seizing its opportunity, how she 
could become, to a degree not yet dreamed of, the In- 
spiring Vision of her countrymen. 

In truth, only by some such large hope, had she suc- 
cessfully sustained her first jealous fury for revenge 
during the six weeks at the East Bell Street Dispensary 
preceding her spectacular appearance at the Ha-Ta Gate. 
Sam Wang had shown remarkable statescraft during 
that period. After the crisis in Andrew Handel study, 
he had never referred again to her own, or even to his 
personal grievances against the white race ; instead, with 
detailed insistence — bringing her maps and reading her 
histories — he had dwelt upon the great general justice on 
the Chinese side, and the abominable lack of it on the 
other; until, with marvellous force and power, he had 
led her to see all from the native point of view, and made 
her in the end, complete master of the Chinese military 
motives and passions. Certainly the task had not been 
difficult with one so well prepared for the teaching as 
Mahlee. And it is not strange that on the strength of 
it she had been able to train her maidens and lead them 


THE GREAT SWORD 


181 


out the evening before in her mystical debut. Only the 
night’s hideous sequel had revealed her weakness, — 
had all but quenched the new fire of “patriotism” in 
her. 

Yet now as the tiring- woman clasped upon her wrists 
some heavy gold bracelets, Mahlee recognised that in her 
present position in Jung Lu’s palace, a clinging to 
patriotism would be her only chance for salvation. 
Without waiting for any more complete restoration, 
therefore, she gathered up the shreds of it with a brave 
smile. 

When the formalities of her toilet had been completed 
and she was brought into the great man’s presence, her 
self-possession was perfect. For she counted before 
the interview was ended upon having changed her 
host’s mind, and this, moreover, without any direct 
appeaL 

The mandarin received her in a fine room rich in 
lacquers and carved teak-wood. He was dressed in silk 
robes in pale tones of lavender, heavily embroidered 
over the breast with the emblematic dragon, and sat- 
urated with some excessive perfume, as of musk ; on his 
head was the Manchu official hat adorned with the button 
and peacock feathers of his exalted rank. The strong 
Mongolian features of the man were not without a cer- 
tain virile beauty in spite of the prominent cheek bones 
and divergent eyes. It was a face indicative of vigour 
and astuteness — the astuteness of the Chinese, which 
based upon craft and a talent for indirection, is yet often 
mingled with a large measure of naivete. He was 
seated in a square armchair before a table, upon which 
was spread a large map. This, he seemed to be exam- 
ining with great attention, but upon Mahlee ’s entrance 
with the tiring-woman, he looked up immediately ; seeing 
the girl’s composure, he himself appeared somewhat em- 
barrassed. His first word was to the attendant. 

“You may go,” he said. 


182 


THE RED LANTERN 


Upon the woman’s withdrawal, he pointed to a second 
armchair opposite his own. 

“Deign to sit down,” he said laconically. He was 
experiencing a certain difficulty in catching the exact 
tone required by Chinese etiquette in dealing with a 
goddess whom he coveted- for his harem. But the 
goddess proved a charming femme du monde. Seating 
herself, she smiled at him graciously, as if she were the 
hostess and he the guest. 

“Your honourable clothes are very handsome,” she re- 
marked, to put him entirely at his ease. “Their cost 
must have been enormous.” 

His face showed first surprise, then candid pleasure. 
He was glad to find that the goddess had a tongue in 
her head. 

“They are worthless rags,” he said, “for which I 
paid but a trifling sum : yet in these agitated times, they 
are the best I can afford.” 

“The times are, indeed, agitated and are likely to be- 
come more so,” Mahlee agreed in a courteous conversa- 
tional tone. “The position of your excellency must be 
a difficult one.” 

“Extremely so; yet I suppose I have no reason for 
complaint, since they say : ‘ The higher the rat creeps up 
the cow’s horn the narrower 1 :o finds it.’ ” 

“Yes,” said Mahlee, smiling amiably again, “and* at 
the tip of the horn where your excellency now stands, 
there can be only room for one. Yet with so great a 
patroness as her majesty, the Empress Dowager, your 
honour need never have the fear of being superseded.” 

He returned her smile, flattered in spite of himself by 
this curious unknown being. Although incredulous as 
to her divine origin, he found her no less a distinct puz- 
zle. Who, indeed, was she to talk with him, the Ta jen, 
— the ‘ ‘ great man, ’ ’ with so much ease and intelligence, 
yet without the slightest suggestion of immodesty. For 
him she was an entirely new type of female, by no means 


THE GREAT SWORD 


183 


sufficiently explained by her title of Boxer Goddess. 
With the exception of the Empress Dowager, he had 
scarcely ever spoken with a clever woman. He would 
like to have questioned her about herself, but some new 
sense of delicacy with which she imbued him, — a sense 
quite foreign to the Chinese code of politeness, — kept his 
curiosity in check, and prevented him, likewise, from 
making any allusion to the events of the preceding night. 

“So you know me?’^ he finally asked. 

“Who in our Middle Kingdom does not know the 
great general, Jung LuT’ was her suave reply. 

He smiled again, yet appeared not quite satisfied. 
The reason for his discontent soon became apparent. 

“But,’^ he said, “there have been greater generals 
than I who became known beyond their own countries. 
In America, there once lived a Ta jen called Georga 
Washington. (His pronunciation of the name was in- 
imitable ! ) Did you ever hear of him ? ’ ' 

Mahlee laughed. “Yes, and of his cherry-tree.^’ 

“His cherry-tree?” 

She told the anecdote in a few words, eliciting a 
hearty laugh from her host, who in exchange recounted 
the wisdom of the young sage, Mencius. But he re- 
turned almost immediately to the "world-wide fame of 
George Washington, of which he was plainly jealous. 

‘ ‘ Even you, who are a woman, have heard of him, ’ ’ he 
said almost wistfully. 

“And yet your excellency’s fame will soon be 
greater,” she replied with conviction. 

He looked at her with shrewd eagerness. 

“Be pleased, Kuniang, to lay bare your subtlety.” 

She swept her hand towards the map on the table. 
“Your excellency has a map which I surmise is intended 
to show the widespread development of the new and 
great society called the I Ho Ch’uan.” Her tone was 
as impersonal as if she herself had no connection with 
the cult. 


184 


THE RED LANTERN 


He nodded, and she continued. 

“Do I paint a snake and add legs when I say that 
through its influence already more than twenty counties 
in the provinces of Shantung and Chihli are in a blaze 
of patriotic zeal, and that soon the whole country from 
the Yellow River to the Great Wall will be caught by the 
same ardour?” 

Again his shrewd eyes were bent upon her. 

“No, you do not exaggerate; that is the truth.” 

“And,” she went on, “is not this great uprising di- 
rected against the foreigners who are represented in this 
city by the ambassadors of eleven distinct nations?” 

“Yes,” he said, “its purpose is to exterminate all the 
foreign devils in China. Their greed and violence in 
seizing upon our land, and their pernicious practices 
and sacrilege towards the gods are arousing inflnite in- 
dignation. And now everybody is cursing them for the 
long drought, — that which is proving a great help in the 
cause.” 

“And the Dragon Throne, now that it is no longer 
occupied by the feeble Kuang Hsii, but by our mighty 
Empress, will uphold the Boxers, will it not?” Mahlee 
queried again. 

His eyes glittered craftily. “That is still a state se- 
cret, but since you seem to be a patroness of the cult, I 
may tell you that Her Majesty already regards them as 
the hope of the nation. All the Imperial Edicts remain 
necessarily ambiguous in their wording. Yet those who 
run may read that she is at heart a friend to the Box- 
ers. ’ ^ 

“And are there not countless thousands of these noble 
patriots?” 

“Thousands, who will soon be multiplied into mil- 
lions.’^ 

“The Empress has appointed your excellency general- 
in-chief of her entire army, I believe ? ’ ’ 


THE GREAT SWORD 


185 


He looked slightly surprised at the needlessness of 
the question, but answered it humbly. 

‘‘Such, Kuniang, is my despicable position.’^ 

“Then,’’ she said, as if giving the quod erat demon- 
strandum of a problem in Euclid, ‘ ‘ with the Throne and 
the people at your back, it will not be long before your 
excellency will have swept the country clean of eleven 
different races of barbarians. How much more glorious, 
therefore, will be the fame you will have achieved, than 
that of George Washington, who was only a barbarian 
himself, and chased from his land but a single tribe of 
savages who had once been his own countrymen. ’ ’ 

He looked at her with naively delighted eyes that held 
not the smallest idea that she was laughing at him. 

“Kuniang,” he said, “I perceive that you are a fine 
logician. State duties call me at present, but I shall 
wish to talk with you again. Meanwhile I humbly beg 
you to remain in my wretched house as the guest of my 
first stupid thorn.” 

By this delicate epithet he signified his head wife, 
who, upon the vigorous clapping of his hands, made her 
appearance in company with half a dozen handmaids. 
He instructed her to treat the new lady with profound 
respect. 

Inwardly, he was making up his mind to learn more 
about the girl. A Boxer Goddess with the exquisite 
manners of an Imperial princess, and all the intelligence 
of a statesman and subtle logician, aroused his curi- 
osity. Moreover, remembering the scene at the Ha-Ta 
Gate, he believed that she might serve him better in 
a capacity quite other than that for which he had at 
first intended her. He recollected, indeed, that the Em- 
press Dowager’s favourite heroine of history was the 
warrior-maiden, Whar Mou Lahn, who, like Jeanne 
d’Arc, went forth to battle in manly guise, and through 
twelve years of heroic adventure remained a pure vir- 
gin. Some unsullied look of Mahlee’s face, retained in 


186 


THE RED LANTERN 


spite of her late experience, had made him instinctively 
give her the appellation of ' ‘ Kuniang, ’ ^ applied only to a 
virgin. 

Could he not win the Empress' undying gratitude at 
this critical moment of national history, by presenting 
her with a reincarnation of her favourite female character 
come back as a Boxer Goddess to destroy the hated for- 
eigners ? 

No one knew better than he the credulity and supersti- 
tion of the old Dowager, nor how deeply impregnated 
she was already with faith in the divine origin of the 
Boxer Society which she had long more than tolerated. 
A ‘‘Goddess” of the cult presented at court would be 
sure to be received with Imperial favour ; and a goddess 
who could at will put off her divine attributes and chat 
with intelligence and grace, would be made doubly wel- 
come by the brilliant old Empress, who was by no means 
adverse to novelty if it had the sanction of ancient re- 
ligion. 

Then, when the “terrible legions” came to storm the 
gates of the foreign legations — he pictured the scene 
triumphantly — the girl should ride out from the palace 
and incite them to deeds of new fury. Such a leader 
would be invaluable to him in the management of a 
fanatical soldiery. 

While these thoughts were traversing the great man- 
darin’s head, his “stupid thorn,” who was a pretty, vi- 
vacious little woman, whisked Mahlee away to her own 
apartments, where she and the “subordinate wives” 
plied her with a thousand questions, all of which the girl 
managed to answer with a pleasing ambiguity. 


yii 


S ING and Chung, the Eurasians, who had brought 
Mahlee to the house of the great Manchu, had been 
given lodgings in the servants^ quarters of the Ta jen. 
After his interview with the girl, Jung Lu called them 
to him and questioned them closely. A few taels and 
promise of rapid promotion in the army, were enough 
to bring forth all the information desired from these 
professional “trimmers.’’ They told him that the jug- 
gler, seen by him at the Ha-Ta Gate, was an Eurasian 
physician and surgeon known as Dr. Sam Wang, who 
lived as a missionary at the Ark of the Covenant Mis- 
sion. This astounding news, the mandarin received 
with a degree of impassiveness becoming a man of his 
rank. When they told him Mahlee ’s story, his interest 
became somewhat more evident. At the details of her 
rescue from Sam Wang on the preceding night, he actu- 
ally rubbed his hands for joy. He could now present her 
before the Throne, knowing that she was in all respects 
a worthy successor of the great Whar Mou Lahn. The 
contentment of the two men, especially of the gigantic 
Sing, in telling the adventure, was too keen to admit of 
any doubt that they were speaking the truth. And 
Mahlee ’s own face testified, too, for her chastity. 

Her admixture of foreign blood must, of course, be 
kept a secret, though to Jung Lu’s own mind, it only 
enhanced her political value. Her intimate knowledge 
of the “foreign devils” would seem to the Empress but 
part of a divine equipment, while to himself it might be 
of inestimable service. The greatest precaution neces- 
sary in the case was to keep the girl’s whereabouts un- 

187 


188 


THE RED LANTERN 


known to her foreign friends who were already, no 
doubt, seeking her anxiously. 

He knew that the needful quota of loyalty could be 
secured from Sing and Chung by a proper equivalent in 
silver. But the juggler also must be made his man. 
In truth, while listening to the recital of the Eurasians 
and to their analysis of the fierce, vindictive character 
of Sam Wang, whom they claimed to have known since 
childhood, the mandarin had been seized by sudden 
qualms. He began to believe that his abduction of 
Mahlee might have serious consequences if he did not 
take care to conciliate the fellow promptly. For a cer- 
tain amount of credulity in regard to the supernatural 
powers of the juggler made him feel that there would 
be little hope of keeping from him long the knowledge of 
the girl’s presence in his house. And as a Boxer chief, 
resentful and at large, Wang would be a dangerous 
enemy to possess at the present juncture. The am- 
biguity of the Imperial Edicts, which, while openly dis- 
countenancing the Boxers, really encouraged them be- 
tween the lines, would make it impossible for him to 
seize the man as a rebel. But at the same time, it gave 
to Wang himself ample opportunity, if he willed, to re- 
gard himself as such and therefore, as foeman, not only 
to the hated foreigners, but also to the scarcely less hated 
Manchu government of which Jung Lu commanded the 
entire military force. 

To arouse such enmity in the breast of so forceful a 
character as he had immediately perceived Sam Wang 
to be, — to excite his opposition now — would be to divide 
the camp in a spirit directly opposed to the secret in- 
structions from the Throne, which daily urged upon him 
the necessity of amalgamating every fighting force in 
the Empire into one great army for the destruction of 
the foreigners. Jung Lu heartily sympathised with this 
policy of the old Dowager. As the Manchu Generalis- 


THE GREAT SWORD 


189 


simo, no one realised better than he how easily the 
fanaticism of the Boxer “patriots” might be turned 
against the government, which, although in force for 
more than two and a half centuries, was still regarded 
as alien by the great mass of the native population. In 
the twinkling of an eye, their watchword : ‘ ' Exterminate 
foreigner” might take on a new clause: “Exterminate 
Manchu,” as w*ell. Between the necessity of keeping 
dormant the suspicions of the foreign ambassadors until 
the hour came to strike, and the still more urgent need 
of secretly supporting and encouraging the Great Sword 
Society with a view to final co-operation with it, — be- 
tween this Scylla and Charybdis, the Manchu bark of 
state found itself in dangerous waters. It was indeed 
a position to call out that fine impartiality expressed a 
little later at the end of one of the Imperial Edicts*. 
^ ‘ Converts and Boxers alike are one and all the children 
of the Throne, and we regard them with an equal love 
which in no way discriminates between the Boxer and 
the Christian ! ’ ^ Jung Lu was one who knew how to ad- 
mire profoundly such noble sentiments; and their au- 
thor, the old Empress who had made him what he was, 
had long been the object of his barbaric devotion. 

He had good reason, therefore, to conciliate Sam 
Wang. Indeed, one schooled in the Oriental physiog- 
nomy, might have detected a new glitter in the depths 
of his crafty eyes at the idea of having such an aux- 
iliary in the very camp of the enemy. His task was 
also rendered easier by his decision in regard to the use 
he should make of Mahlee. In going over in his mind 
the scene at the Ha-Ta Gate, he remembered that the 
girl had seemed to act less of her own volition than in 
obedience to the hypnotic influence of the magician ^s 
eyes. He reflected that without Sam Wang, a success- 
ful “reincarnation” of the heroic Whar Mou Lahn 
would hardly be possible. Certainly the juggler would 


190 


THE RED LANTERN 


be needed to arrange the battle tableaux in which the 
girl should figure as “Goddess’’ before the fanatical 
Boxers. 

It was clear, then, that the man must be found at 
once and brought before him. The only question was 
how to protect Mahlee from the fellow’s passion. With- 
out a guarantee of such protection, he knew that the 
girl would refuse to act, though with it, he believed that 
she could be prevailed upon in the interest of her coun- 
try to accept Wang again as her “manager.” The sit- 
uation was, to say the least, delicate. Obviously the 
only bribe that would suit the case would be the promise 
of high advancement to Sam Wang on condition of his 
observing a rigid respect for the maid. 

After dismissing the Eurasians, he bade twelve of his 
servants (four chair-bearers and eight outriders), go at 
once with a sedan to the foreign hospital on Pheasant 
Lane and urgently invite the honourable, august, and 
renowned physician. Dr. Sam Wang, to accompany 
them back to attend upon their master, Jung Lu, who 
was suffering from some obscure indisposition. Since 
the juggler could have as yet no suspicion against him, 
Jung Lu counted upon this simple ruse to succeed. But 
he took the precaution to send Sing and Chung on an 
errand out of the city, so that the sight of them at his 
gates might not anger Wang upon entering. 

Haste in the matter was the more urgent because in 
a few days, Jung Lu, himself, expected to leave the city 
to join his troops which were still in the north. He 
wished, if possible, to take Sam Wang with him. 


yiii 


S OME hours later in the day, the sedan with the four 
chair-bearers and eight outriders was brought into 
the private court of Jung Lu. At the moment of its ar- 
rival, Lady Jung, who had not been taken into her hus- 
band ’s confidence, happened to be strolling in her garden 
next to the court. Hearing the sounds which signified 
the coming of a visitor, she applied one of her bright 
black eyes to a small orifice in the wall through which 
she was wont to spy upon her lord and his friends. 
Scarcely had she focussed her vision on the object of her 
curiosity, when she fell back with a shriek and began to 
palpitate like a frightened butterfly. But finding no 
audience to witness her fine alarms, she fluttered back 
to the women’s court, shrilling out that she had seen a 
terrible fierce fellow with a scowl so savage that the sight 
of him had almost made her swoon. ‘‘I think he is a 
murderer!” she ended with conviction. 

Her words, as she had calculated, were greeted with 
enthusiasm by the subordinate wives for whom any ex- 
citement was a welcome relief to the intolerable ennui 
of the harem. 

‘‘A murderer! a murderer! Let’s go and see him!” 
They flew into the garden on their high, stilt-like heels 
and almost fought for possession of the peep hole. But 
it was too late. The man had already descended from 
the sedan and been admitted to Jung Lu’s room. 

An hour later, Mahlee, who chanced to come into the 
garden, saw the women silently lined up against the 
wall like Blue Beard’s wives, their almond eyes full of 
the horror to which they had worked themselves under 
the influence of Lady Jung’s suggestion. They were 

191 


192 


THE RED LANTERN 


waiting for the reappearance of the “assassin” whom 
they fully expected to see emerge with a bloody sword 
from their lord^s chamber. Lady Jung, by right of her 
position as head wife, watched through the hole. 

Suddenly the flowers and gold ornaments in her pol- 
ished black hair began to quiver like aspen leaves. 
“Here he comes,” she said in an intense whisper. 

The others held their breath. A minute of dead si- 
lence ensued. Then the youngest wife, unable longer to 
bear the suspense, shrieked out: “Has he got our lord^s 
head ? ’ ’ 

At this, to the infinite surprise of all. Lady Jung 
turned and burst into a merry peal of laughter. “Got 
our lord ’s head ! ’ ’ she cried. ‘ ‘ Alas, no ! They are 
talking and smiling together. See, this is the way the 
fellow grins!” 

Whereat this charming comedienne made an immense 
grimace. And all the subordinate wives peeped in turn 
through the hole and were soon in high merriment over 
their fears of “so good natured a murderer.” 

Mahlee, who had watched the scene at a distance 
with amused but alien eyes, did not guess that Jung 
Lu ’s visitor, who had arrived sulky and savage, and who 
was departing in the best of humours, was no other than 
Sam Wang. 


IX 


J UNG LU, also, was in an admirable mood when, in 
answer to his summons the next morning, Mahlee 
came again into his presence. The interview with Sam 
Wang on the preceding afternoon had been singularly to 
his taste. For it had heightened his self-esteem as a 
diplomat, a character in which he took even more pride 
than in his reputation as a warrior. He had seen the 
sullen, almost ferocious look of Wang turn to one of 
eager ambition in measure as he had revealed his inten- 
tions to the fellow. Then had followed a true Oriental 
bickering over terms. At the end, Sam Wang had given 
his promise to keep at a respectful distance from Mah- 
lee until the war was over on condition that Jung Lu 
commend him to the Empress as candidate for the ‘ ‘ Sap- 
phire Button” or rank of third grade mandarin within 
six months, and that the girl, herself, be given him in 
case of victory to the Chinese arms. 

The conference had confirmed Jung Lu’s impression 
of Wang as a man of extraordinary force. He had long 
known of the remarkable work accomplished by the mys- 
terious Ching Lin in inciting the patriots of Shantung, 
and when Sam Wang confessed that he and this Lin 
were identical, Jung Lu reflected that he was lucky, in- 
deed, to secure, upon such easy terms, so powerful an 
ally for himself and the Throne. It was decided that 
Wang should accompany the great general northward to 
obtain some idea of the forces there, and of Jung Lu’s 
methods of army discipline, before he returned to his 
work among the Boxers in Shantung. The men swore 
their pact over white wine and opium; and when the 
mandarin ushered his guest into the court, Wang was 
13 193 


194 


THE KED LANTERN 


wearing the grin which the Lady Jung had imitated 
with such pleasing effect on the other side of the wall. 

Jung Lu greeted Mahlee with a smile as she entered 
his audience room, and took the armchair to which he 
motioned her. He asked her wdth great courtesy how 
she had eaten and slept, and if the “mean ones of the 
inner apartments” had behaved themselves with seemli- 
ness towards their honourable guest. When she had 
politely answered these questions, he told her what he 
had learned of her from Sing and Chung, and expressed 
his intense satisfaction that she had renounced all re- 
lations with the “foreign devils” who could only in the 
end have corrupted her manners, and damned her soul 
eternally. She looked grave at this and replied that she 
felt that she had indeed had a very narrow escape from 
such a doom. He then asked her if she believed it true 
that the earth was round as the foreigners claimed. To 
his mind, he confessed, it seemed far more probable that 
it was in the shape of a huge square upheld on a mighty 
pillar which in turn was sustained on the back of an 
enormous tortoise. She answered unsmilingly that she 
was inclined to take his excellency’s view, and refrained 
from asking the pertinent question as to what might 
support the tortoise ! 

Gratified by this unexpected coincidence of opinion, 
he invited her to inspect with him the map which was 
still lying on the table. She bent over it eagerly, show- 
ing perfect familiarity with the counties, towns, and 
even with many of the villages involved in the Boxer 
movement. She told him what the strategic points were, 
and distinguished between their relative importance. 
Sam Wang’s teaching had been thorough! The old 
general was surprised at the exactness and profundity of 
her knowledge ; she was even able to clear up some doubt- 
ful points for him. 

As she examined the map and talked with her host, 
she felt with joy something of her old passion for “re- 


.THE GREAT SWORD 


195 


venge” return upon her. All the unjust aggressions of 
the foreigners, — the recent and remote sources of an- 
tipathy which the mandarin cited and with which Sam 
Wang had already made her cognisant; the territorial 
encroachments, the persistent commercial intrusions, the 
humiliating treaties forced by other nations upon the 
Chinese, — in fine, the ‘ ^ Gourd growing in the kettle which 
would soon leave no room to boil” as the Ta jen summed 
it up — ^these things seemed again to enlarge — again 
actually to glorify — her own personal bitterness. She 
made them do this for her, at least, in her profound, 
though unadmitted need, for self-reinforcement. For 
this hour, at any rate, she felt herself once more the 
true patriot. In spite of Sam Wang — in spite of every- 
thing! — the Cause was great. Yes, and she was in it, 
literally, irrevocably in it! 

She let herself go in this idea; she abandoned herself 
with a feeling of sinking, now almost delicious; she en- 
couraged, with an inward smile of pleasure at her grow- 
ing powers, Jung Lu’s masterly indirection of speech, 
until she had actually brought him to the point of sound- 
ing her upon her willingness to continue her role of 
Boxer Goddess, — until he had even proposed outright to 
secure for her the Imperial patronage. This was rapid 
work in dealing with a Chinese mandarin! She felt 
herself safe enough now from the harem. But she kneAV 
better than to betray too great an eagerness. She toyed 
long and delicately with Jung Lu’s proposals before she 
at last consented to them. Then she suddenly changed 
once more. She let him see her ardour in the red spots 
on her cheeks, the bright glitter in her eyes. 

At the spectacle, his smile deepened. Here was a 
Whar Mou Lahn with spirit enough to please the old 
Empress! He told her that he was going to leave the 
city the next day, and would probably not be back until 
the time had come for decided action. Meanwhile every 
courtesy should be shown to her in his ^‘miserable 


196 


THE RED LANTERN 


abode,” and upon his return she should be presented 
before the Throne. He thought it wisest at present to 
make no allusion to the visit of Sam Wang. 

Upon dismissing the girl, he gave her as a token of 
his favour, a duck ’s egg, which, he said, had lain in brine 
in the Imperial vaults for not less than a hundred years. 
He had received six from the Palace a few days since. 
They were considered a rare delicacy. 


X 


S OME ten days after the events just recorded, An- 
drew Handel wrote to his mother at C , Vermont, 

to tell her that the search for Mahlee, the Eurasian, had 
as yet been fruitless. 

“Alas!^^ he cried, ‘‘there is reason to fear the worst. 
We have exhausted every resource within our command 
to establish some trace of the young woman, but up to 
the present moment, we remain completely bafBed. For 
neither the public investigation which we have insisted 
should be made through the agencies of both the British 
and American legations, nor the unremitting zeal of 
our own private search parties has brought forth a sin- 
gle clue. In these search parties which have gone out 
daily from our gates, all the members of the mission, as 
well as many of our devoted Chinese Christians have 
joined most heartily. The ladies, especially Dr. Ken- 
nedy and Mrs. Parmelee, have not hesitated to expose 
themselves to insult and even to real danger; and Mr. 
Parmelee and myself have visited many of the lowest 
brothels of the city in the hope of finding the poor girl 
in one of them. But although we are still unwilling to 
abandon our efforts, this hope is growing more and more 
feeble as the days go by. 

“You will be asking where Dr. Wang has been all 
this time, and why he has in no way concerned himself 
in the search for Mahlee. ‘ The question is, indeed, perti- 
nent. As one of the same unfortunate race — if race it 
may be called ! — and affected as has been commonly sup- 
posed by the ladies of the mission, with a certain natu- 
ral predilection for the young woman, which, it had been 

197 


198 


THE EED LANTERN 


hoped, would lead to a union between them, one might 
have expected him to show more zeal than any of us in 
efforts for her recovery. You will share in our own sur- 
prise when I tell you that the reverse has been the truth. 
Scarcely three days after Mahlee’s disappearance. Dr. 
Wang announced to us his intention of returning to 
Shantung, where he had spent several months of last 
autumn and winter in the work which I, myself, began 
during the spring among the famine sufferers. At that 
time, he carried with him the warai approval of the 
mission. But his present withdrawal from Peking was 
not looked upon with the same favour. It was taken 
by the ladies as evidehce of an indifference to the fate 
of Mahlee that seemed absolutely unpardonable in view 
of the tender sentiments which they had attributed to 
him in her regard. Even to Mr. Parmelee and myself 
it appeared scarcely warranted under the circum- 
stances. Miss McGinnis, whose dignity leaves some- 
thing to be desired, went so far as to cast herself at 
Dr. Wang’s feet, beseeching him with tears to remain 
and ‘help us find our dearest darling Mahlee whom 
we all thought you loved.’ (This young woman is 
occasionally rather fulsome in her use of language.) 
But Dr. Wang replied with the peculiar smile which 
has become characteristic: ‘Where duty calls. Miss 
McGinnis, mere considerations of love must not detain 
me.’ And the same day he was off. 

“I confess that I have never fully understood this 
man. While heartily admiring the astonishing activity 
and proficiency which he displays in his profession, — 
(never have there been such crowds at the hospital 
and dispensary as during the past winter) — I cannot but 
regret that he gives little evidence of any real sancti- 
fication of character. The Pentecostal fire seems to have 
been withheld from him. But (D. V.) we trust that 
it may descend upon him yet; then, he cannot fail to 
be a mighty force in our midst. 


THE GREAT SWORD 


199 


‘‘The account of your entertainment at our home, 
my dear Mother, of Dr. and Mrs. Templeton, gave me 
genuine delight. When I think of Dr. Templeton, I 
am ever reminded of tlie words written of St. Columba 
but which are no less applicable to him: ‘A holy and 
venerable man in whom Almighty God manifested Ilis 
glorious name in the sight of the heathen.^ And he 
will be also, without doubt, like the holy man of Iona, 
one whom ‘God, who loves them that love Him, and 
more and more glorifying those who magnify Him with 
sweet praises, lifts up on high with immeasurable 
honours. ’ 

“We are all thankful that both he and his wife re- 
turned home when they did. For although we do not 
anticipate any serious trouble here in Peking the re- 
ports from the outlying districts concerning the spread 
of the Great Sword Society, continue alarming, and 
we feel that it is just as well that our dear old friends 
are safe in America. I am glad that Dr. Templeton’s 
cough seems less severe. May he be restored soon 
(D. V.) to perfect health. 

“The annual Feast of Lanterns was celebrated this 
year with more than usual extravagance. The Chinese 
have been talking ever since of a marvellous magician 
who on that night openly proclaimed himself to be a 
Boxer and performed wonders before a great crowd 
at the Ha-Ta Gate. It is said that he read from anti- 
foreign placards and recited Boxer incantations, the 
wording of which, if I can judge from reports, appears 
to be identical with those I heard a year ago in Shan- 
tung. As climax to his performance, he summoned 
from the ‘Central Eight Caves’ the ‘Goddess of the 
Red Lantern Light’ who appeared borne on a red 
palanquin by a troop of scarlet-robed girls and received 
an oath of allegiance from a number of men desiring 
to become Boxer leaders. All, including the magician, 
exhibited on their persons the red sash of the Society. 


200 


THE RED LANTERN 


This is, by far, the boldest manifestation that I have 
yet heard of as taking place in this city ; but as we have 
heard nothing more, either of this curious Chinese 
Jeanne d’Arc, or of the Boxer magician, we have 
reason to hope that they have been arrested by the 
government authorities, and that the case will remain 
an isolated one. 

“Yet it must be confessed that so far, the action of 
the Chinese government — if action it may be called ! — 
to suppress the Boxers has been marked by a singular 
leisure which has put the patience of us all to its utmost 
test. More than this, a certain Janus-faced aspect of 
several of the late Edicts, which, even when apparently 
most uncompromising in their attitude to the Boxers, 
are accompanied or followed by ‘secret instructions’ 
appearing to reverse their initial sense, has caused ac- 
tual doubt among us as to the real trend of Manchu 
sympathy. And recently this doubt has been greatly 
strengthened in our minds by the Imperial commenda- 
tion of the notorious Yii Hsien, who, you will remem- 
ber, was but lately Governor of Shantung, where his 
indifference to my peril last spring almost cost me my 
life. He is generally believed to have organised the 
Ta Tao Hai, or Great Sword Society, since amalga- 
mated with the I Ho Ch’uan or Fists of Righteous Har- 
mony. Whether or not this be true, it is undeniable 
that he has secretly promoted the Boxer rebellion by 
every means in his power, and is directly responsible 
for the murder of the Anglican missionary, Mr. Brooks. 
The insistence of the foreign legations finally effected 
the removal of Yii Hsien from Shantung. But now 
all foreigners are incensed to learn that he has been 
appointed Governor of the province of Shansi, after 
having been formally presented with, the character for 
‘Happiness’ written by the Empress Dowager’s own 
hand. In other words, the man who represents the 
most violent anti-foreign feeling in China is he whom 


THE GREAT SWORD 


201 


the Empress appears most delighted to honour. What 
are we to think of these things? 

“I have purposely exposed with some detail the sit- 
uation politique as it now appears to us in Peking, 
my dear Mother, so that you may be prepared for any- 
thing which may arise later. For although, I again 
repeat, that I believe as all our foreign ambassadors 
do, that we are in no serious danger here in the cap- 
ital, the future is necessarily shrouded in mystery. 
Yet in whatever peril I may find myself, I have your 
own most noble words with which to fortify my soul. 
For did you not say to me on our last precious Sab- 
bath evening together, that if the high crown of mar- 
tyrdom w^ere placed on the brow of your son, you 
would look up to God and praise His holy name? Ah, 
my Mother, how well I understood you! Has not the 
desire for that great and final honour burned in the 
bosom of every true saint? 

^‘Yet even as I write these words, I am conscious of 
a new and strong attachment to our earthly existence. 
I have not disguised from you, who know all my se- 
crets, the nature of my increasing interest in Miss 
Blanche Sackville. I believe I have already told you 
that her father. Sir Philip Sackville, is a retired Eng- 
lish officer who has done noble service for his country 
and is held in high esteem by all who know him. His 
wealth and exalted position are — alas! — the well-nigh 
insuperable obstacles which ever oppose themselves to 
my mad dream of increased intimacy with his daugh- 
ter. For although unions between ladies of noble birth 
and untitled clergymen are not unknown in England, 
I fear that Sir Philip would regard an obscure Amer- 
ican missionary like myself, as being quite without the 
pale of eligibility. But for the few months longer 
that Miss Sackville remains in Peking, it surely will 
be no sin to give myself the exquisite pleasure, which 
is yet half pain, of seeing her as often as possible ? 


202 


THE RED LANTERN 


‘‘Indeed, I have had that pleasure quite recently, 
having had occasion, last week, to visit the British 
legation in the interest of Mahlee. The gracious con- 
cern which Miss Sackville evinced for the poor Eura- 
sian did her much credit. She even insisted upon giv- 
ing me a considerable sum of money to be used in the 
search, saying that she had taken an extraordinary 
fancy to the girl, and should be greatly grieved if she 
could not be found. 

“But it is time for this letter to close, since I see that 
the mail-carrier is already here with his bag. Adieu, 
my dear Mother. May peace dwell in you. Si Deus 
nobiscum, quis contra nos? 

“Ever your dutiful and affectionate son, 

“Andrew Handel.’^ 


XI 


FTER the departure of Jung Lu, Mahlee found 



herself in an elegant prison, with the mandarin’s 
wives and concubines who had been left in the care of 
a chief eunuch, as her only companions. The principal 
occupations of these ladies were embroidery, chess, and 
tea drinking. Gathered all together with their hand- 
maids and lap-dogs in Lady Jung’s sitting room, or, 
as the spring advanced, in a large pavilion in the 
flower garden, they looked like the silken dames of 
their own tapestries. And what tapestries and em- 
broideries they made ! 

Under their skilful needles came forth rare crea- 
tures, indeed, — rainbow coloured things clinging to the 
surfaces of inimitable silks, like the iridescent down 
to a butterfly’s wing. Animals, birds, reptiles, and 
exquisite insects, — flying fish, and fire-spitting dragons, 
storks on one leg snapping at pale moons, lizards, 
scorpions, serpents, and beautiful conventions of tree 
and flower and gem, appeared as if by magic to em- 
bellish their tunics, their shoes, fillets for their hair, 
coverlets for their beds, and superb hangings for their 
chamber walls. Upon these last, several of the ladies 
would work at the same time, under the direction of 
Lady Jung, who was chief designer. Her compositions 
were charming, showing quaint landscapes with fan- 
tastic palaces and summer houses set in high-walled 
gardens, where unimaginably stiff ladies followed by 
poodles with monstrous ears, paced on marble terraces, 
while in a distance without perspective, rose the roofs 
of temples and pagodas from the eaves of which hung 
tiny silken tassels in lieu of bells. 


203 


204 


THE RED LANTERN 


Mahlee, whose skill in needlecraft was but mediocre, 
was yet able to teach the ladies some new stitches which 
she had learned from Mrs. Templeton. She also showed 
them how to knit (an unknown art among the Chinese). 
They used slender ivory chopsticks for needles and 
were soon knitting up their skeins of multi-coloured 
silks into snuff pouches, bags for their hand mirrors 
and cosmetics, and sachets to place under their pil- 
lows. They were wonderfully delighted with these 
things and disct rded the pieces upon which they had 
been working to take up the new fad. 

Notwithstanding the almost childish awe which she 
inspired by something rich and unusual in her bearing, 
Mahlee became a favourite among them. Without be- 
traying her connection with the foreigners, she could tell 
them many interesting things of which they had never 
before heard. They came to the conclusion that she was 
a Tartar princess whom their lord was holding as hos- 
tage of war. Had he not told them to treat her with 
extreme deference? They saw that she was not to be 
made a concubine, so she must be some great person. 
A little jealous, they nevertheless admired loudly her 
“august beauty like a lake in autumn”; they praised 
the originality of her coiffure, the whiteness of her 
teeth, the redness of her lips, the smoothness of her 
throat, her small, delicate ears, her hands with their 
long tapering fingers. But they urged her to culti- 
vate her nails and use cosmetics. Their own nails, 
sheathed in gold filigree, were three inches long, and 
their faces were quite frankly whitened to what might 
have seemed an alarming pallor had they not been just 
as frankly relieved by the carmine on the lips and the 
round spots of scarlet on the cheeks, painted with no 
real attempt at illusion yet with a certain decorative 
skill. Only upon two features of Mahlee ’s person did 
they refrain from compliment. They were secretly 
shocked by the size of her feet and the strange colour 


THE GREAT SWORD 


205 


of her eyes — “blue like a demon’s,” as Lady ^Tung 
whispered to the others. 

By April, the ivy which mantled the high walls of 
the garden was in tender crimson leaf. Even before 
the exotic flowers were in bloom, Mahlee found in the 
place a quaint charm suggestive of the precise refine- 
ments of an antique race. The enclosure was laid out in 
uniform lozenge-shaped plots wherein a multitude of 
dwarf trees like the toy trees of a child’s Noah’s ark, had 
been set ; nor were the usual rockery and fountain in the 
centre of Chinese gardens missing, the small aquatic 
nooks at the base of the rocks being inhabited by Lady 
Jung’s pet fishes. These were terrible little monsters, 
produced by some curious process of breeding, with 
heads twice the size of their bodies and enormous bulg- 
ing eyes; they swam with fluted fins and tails extended 
about them like the skirts of a ballet dancer. Lady 
Jung fed them herself; one of the items of their daily 
nourishment being a red geranium petal apiece “to 
preserve their bright colour,” as the lady told Mahlee 
in all seriousness. 

As the spring sunshine became more steady, the 
ladies abandoned their inner chambers almost entirely, 
and sat for hours in the garden pavilion. As head 
wife. Lady Jung was supposed to train her subordi- 
nates in manners and morals. This duty she discharged 
"daily by reading to them as fast as her tongue could 
go, a rule or two from a section of the “Book of Rites” 
known as the Nei Tseh or “Deportment in the Inner 
Compartments;” and then catechising them on what 
she had read, — somewhat as follows: “A wife should 
excel in four things: virtue, speech, deportment, and 
needle work. — Chin Yue,” turning to the youngest wife 
with a great pretence of solemnity, “what four excel- 
lencies should characterise a spouse?” 

Poor “Harvest Moon,” a mere child, whose face was 
as round as her name indicated, and whose wits were 


206 


THE KED LANTERN 


always wool-gathering, would invariably hang her head 
for answer. At this, all the others would laugh, and 
Lady Jung, shaking her own head dolefully, while 
looking at Mahlee with something very like a wink, 
would predict a terrible w^hipping for someone at our 
lord^s return.’’ But when the tears began to flow down 
the chubby cheeks of little Harvest Moon, the dainty 
lady would playfully pinch her ear, and whisper into 
it: “If you make haste and pour me out a cup of 
tea, I w’on’t tell on you this time.” In her eagerness. 
Chin Yue would probably spill the tea and evoke an- 
other explosion of mirth: and the lesson in etiquette 
w^ould be at an end. 

Sometimes, the ladies would have visitors, other great 
iai-tais, who would arrive with their handmaids and 
babies in closely curtained sedans. The interchange of 
affabilities on these occasions was endless, — exhausting, 
as it seemed to Mahlee, all the “three hundred rules 
of ceremony” and the “three thousand rules of be- 
haviour,” mentioned in the classics. The receiving 
ladies would praise their guests’ “august raiment,” 
the “golden lilies” of their feet, their faces “shaped 
like a melon seed,” and say that the fathers of their 
sons must be even richer than Li Hung Chang who 
was known by all to be an Aladdin of wealth. At 
this, the visiting dames, secretly delighted, but with a 
pretence of deep melancholy, would shake their bird- 
like heads: “Alas! no; our sons’ fathers are no more 
than mean coolies, and that is why we must appear in 
such miserable rags.” 

And as if to substantiate this pathetic confidence, 
they bade their handmaids show the ladies their 
“wretched offspring.” “Whereupon were brought for- 
ward the most absurd and adorable little dolls of flesh 
and blood, swaddled to excess in exquisite rainbow- 
coloured fabrics, with tiny reddened lips and cheeks like 
their mothers’, and incredibly minute queues. 


XII 


I N the Market-town of the Crows (Lao Kua Chen) in 
Shantung, whither he had come from the north after 
a brief sojourn with Jung Lu and his troops, Sam 
Wang was less daintily occupied. The head men of 
the town, meeting him on the day of his arrival, had 
pressed the “Illustrious Patriot Ching Lin” to pos- 
sess himself immediately of the Yamen or quarters of 
the military and civil bureaus, conveniently vacated the 
day before by the former magistrate, who, having pre- 
sumed to put down some disturbance of the Boxers, had 
found himself suddenly degraded. The Patriot showed 
no hestitation in accepting the office and his fame, al- 
ready great in this region, soon became, with the new ti- 
tle of ‘ ‘ benevolent and loving magistrate, ’ ’ not less than 
phenomenal. For outside of his new magisterial du- 
ties, he continued to practise surgery in the daytime, 
and jugglery by night, and his feats in both arts, were 
regarded as equally miraculous. 

A part of the Yamen itself had been turned into an 
operating room. And now on an afternoon in late 
spring, Sam Wang stood with his sleeves rolled up 
and instruments in hand, before a table upon which 
was stretched an old Chinese peasant under the influ- 
ence of an anaesthetic. Dr. Wang was operating for 
goitre. As he worked, he gave from time to time gruff, 
terse orders to his attendant, who strangely enough 
was no other than the Eurasian Sing. For either by 
fear or sincere repentance of their former disaffection, 
in seeing Wang exalted by Jung Lu, he and his com- 
rade Chung had “eaten dust,” and been taken back 
into the Patriot's employ. 


207 


208 


THE KED LANTERN 


“More sponges here. Fetch a pail. Now put the 
cone over his mouth again for a minute. CanT you 
see he needs more ether?’’ 

Sing obeyed in silence. When the operation was 
completed, Wang applied the bandages with a few 
rapid movements. 

“Call Chung and take him out,” he said, denoting 
the inert figure and removing his surgical apron as if 
his day’s work were over. “Then you/^ he said per- 
emptorily, ‘ ‘ come back. ’ ’ 

Left a moment to himself, Sam Wang’s eyes glistened. 

“The fifty-ninth operation since my arrival and al- 
most all successful. The Wizard of Oz would find his 
nose broken if he came here! Even the village ‘Bul- 
lies’ for leagues around call me Master. I’ll give 
them a few jinks to-night in the Market place and dis- 
tribute our new muskets. Then we’ll go and set up 
the Boxer altars in the Dog’s Tooth village.” 

He moved briskly about the room, washing his sur- 
gical instruments and putting them back into their 
cases. “Twelve thousand in this neighbourhood alone 
who have taken the oath. At this rate, in less than a 
month we’ll be ready to make our swoop on Pe- 
king. . . . Ah, Mahlee! Mahlee!” 

His old exultant grin broke over his face as he seized 
a piece of paper and a Chinese pen. “We’ll give her 
a sign of life.” He sat down by a table and inscribed 
rapidly a page of native characters, his grin broad- 
ening as he wrote. When the big Sing re-entered, 
Wang thrust the paper into his hands. 

The love betv/een us is neither excessive nor blind, ’ ’ 
he said, speaking in Chinese, and holding Sing with 
a look which made the young giant shrink a little. 
“Yet if you will deliver this letter into Mahlee ’s own 
hands before the middle of the next moon, I will make 
you and your comrade my lieutenants when we are in 
Peking. ’ ’ 


THE GREAT SWORD 


209 


Sing bowed almost to the ground. ^ ‘ It shall be done, 
your excellency.” 

He went out, and the Illustrious Patriot with his 
grin still on nis lips, proceeded to prepare himself for 
the “Jinks” in the Market place. 

. . . Later, that same night, twenty li away in 

the Dog’s Tooth Village, he set up the Boxer altars. 
And men and women and children, stripped almost 
naked, drunk with rice-brandy and cataleptic frenzy, 
danced before them, slashing their bare limbs with 
swords and thrusting pikes into their abdomens, while 
they raised in hideous guttural chorus, their murderous 
chants. 

When dawn came to light anew the village threshing 
floors, those who had killed themselves in the trial were 
quickly and quietly buried. Yet most of the people 
had sustained no injuries by reason of some secret spell 
cast over them by their “benevolent and loving magis- 
trate.” 

U 


XIII 


A fter a month of life in Jung Lu’s palace, Mahlee 
was suffering the torments of a Gulliver impris- 
oned by the Lilliputians. She seemed to be caught and 
held down by the fine threads of a cobweb — the fioss 
of embroidery silk! She was exasperated by inanity, 
by inaction. Was it to stitch butterflies on slippers, 
to sip perfumed tea from cups of egg-shell china with 
a mandarin’s concubines, that she had broken with 
her past? Was this, forsooth, the mighty part she 
had dreamed of playing in the destiny of nations ? 
She could scarcely control her impatience, scarcely wait 
until Jung Lu’s return. She began too to doubt his 
good faith. Did he really mean to present her to the 
Empress, or had his promise been a ruse to keep her 
contented, until, imperceptibly softened by luxury and 
silken ease, she had become a tame thing for his harem ? 
The idea made her frantic. But the next moment she 
saw that it was unreasonable. Jung Lu had evinced 
too sincere a pleasure at her consent to carry on her 
work as Boxer Goddess to make her doubt seriously 
his intentions in regard to her. No, he had been in 
earnest. She must be patient and wait. Like Joan of 
Arc, she must listen for the Voices, she must try to 
prepare herself to inspire and save her people. Her 
people 1 The words rang like a knell in her heart. 
Yet she insisted upon them to herself with vehemence. 
^‘Yes, my people, my own people whom I love.” But 
somewhere in the depths of her soul, she heard her own 
ironic laughter. 

And day by day in spite of her utmost effort to 
maintain her enthusiasm for the “Cause,” — to keep 

210 


THE GREAT SWORD 


211 


herself up to the fighting pitch — she felt that enthu- 
siasm ebb. Vainly at present did she rehearse to herself 
the hideous wrongs inflicted upon the Chinese by the 
foreigners; vainly did she call them unjust and cruel 
oppressors; some strong current in her blood fought 
on their side. In desperation, she tried to arouse her 
old resentment against Andrew Handel, — that savage 
jealousy which had first made her espouse the Boxer 
cause. But she perceived, with a curious dismay, that 
it, too, had grown weak. In fact, her persistent thought 
of Andrew, far from inciting her now to new hatred, 
threw her into an agonised anxiety in regard to him. 
She was in the paradoxical position of a woman over- 
wrought by tender apprehensions for her sworn enemy. 
And this perception that her love was not really dead, 
maddened her the more. She looked upon that love as 
a secret and burning shame, as the traitor within her 
own breast. She wrestled with it, she tore it with vio- 
lent and murderous hands, but she was powerless to 
drive it from her. 

At the end, she was seized by a strange despair in 
which she fell to wondering in a helpless way if she 
could do anything without Sam Wang. She had not 
dared to think of him since that terrible hour at East 
Bell Street. The least reminder of it, as when she had 
opened a wardrobe one day and saw the red dress she 
had worn, turned her cold as a corpse. Yet with her 
loathing, came a sick realisation of her dependence 
upon Wang for success in her chosen task. As she 
had said, he had practically hypnotised her at the Ha- 
Ta Gate. Would she be able to do anything alone? 
Would she soon have any hate left? — that was the 
question. She chafed at her inactivity, while doubting 
her power — aye — her desire ! — to do what she had set 
herself. Well, she could only wait until the appointed 
time. Perhaps something — the Voices — might come to 
her help. 


212 


THE RED LANTERN 


Outside this secluded garden, she knew that there 
were tremendous forces working rapidly towards a 
climax. But here she could learn nothing. It is true 
that the tai-tais who came in the sedans were the wives 
of important court officials, but they were as ignorant 
as children. The most that they could tell her was 
that the old Empress hated the “foreign devils, ’’ but 
that when the great general Tung Pu Hsiang offered to 
bring his “terrible legions’’ from the wild west of 
Kansu province to drive every foreigner into the sea, she 
had replied with an amiable smile that the time was not 
yet come. All these ladies, including Lady Jung her- 
self, knew the Empress personally. Some of them were 
her blood relations and spoke of her as Lao-Tzu- Tzung 
“The Great Ancestress,” or stiff more reverentially as 
“The Old Buddha.” But they seemed to fear to talk 
of her except in ceremonious formulas. And rarely did 
they refer in any way to the Emperor. 

Under ordinary circumstances. Lady Jung, and at 
least the second wife, would have returned the visits of 
their friends, and Mahlee might have had the oppor- 
tunity to accompany them. But Jung Lu had left strict 
orders with his chief eunuch, who acted as steward of the 
household, that during his absence the ladies should not 
leave home. 

The months passed ; the impatience of Mahlee became 
more and more acute each day. But it was not until 
the morning of the thirteenth of June that a break 
came in the monotony. This day chanced to be the anni- 
versary of Lady Jung’s birth. By way of celebration 
the garden walks were spread with carpets and a large 
purple canopy with golden fringe was extended, under 
which, around little tables, female visitors gathered at 
an early hour of the day. Lady Jung, playing the 
great dame on her seat amidst the “secondary wives,” 
with the “Tartar Princess” at her side, welcomed all her 
guests with the same bright smile, which showed two rows 


THE GREAT SWORD 


213 


of dazzling little teeth, before she bade her handmaids 
set chairs for them and bring them tea. She asked them 
if they liked the music of the flutes and citherns which 
proceeded from a corner of the garden, and when they 
had replied in a rapturous affirmative, she sent little 
Harvest Moon to order the musicians to play louder so 
that they might be ‘ ^ better heard. ’ ’ At this, the instru- 
ments quickened to a veritable frenzy of sound, and 
Lady Jung’s bright smile broadened as a band of gigan- 
tic creatures, wearing monstrous masks with exaggerated 
noses, and beards a yard long, appeared under the pur- 
ple canopy. 

These were dancers on stilts with motions like drunken 
daddy-long-legs. They advanced with great leaps, and 
joining hands in a circle, danced with crazed rapidity in 
time to the ever quickening music. Then suddenly 
bounding off their stilts, and throwing away their masks, 
these curious acrobats began a series of wild somersaults, 
tumblings, and wrestlings which Anally turned into 
clever jugglery. 

It was just as the last of these fellows, almost a giant 
in stature, who unlike the others, had retained his mask, 
was subsiding, exhausted, on the ground not far from 
her feet, that Mahlee felt her sleeve slightly pulled. But 
the touch was so light and swift that she would have been 
scarcely aware of it had she not almost at the same mo- 
ment become conscious of a small folded paper lying in 
her lap. She was sure then that the wrestler had 
dropped it there. As she looked towards him again, he 
removed his mask, and she recognised the Eurasian, Sing. 
The incident was so strange that she paled, as her hand 
quickly closed over the paper. A moment later she gave 
some excuse to seek her own chamber. There, unfolding 
the missive with a hand which trembled, she read this 
curious communication written in Chinese characters. 

“Wang of the Iron Mouth greets the Goddess of the 
Red Lantern Light ! 


214 


THE RED LANTERN 


‘‘The bits of fur from under the legs of many foxes 
will in the end make a robe. . . . Foxes by thousands 
are lending their legs. Our robe will soon be ready, — 
the ample shroud which is destined to smother to death 
every foreign devil in China. Therefore, prepare your- 
self, also.’’ 

Mahlee dropped the paper with a cry. Sam Wang 
knew where she was then! he had known all the time; 
it was even probable that he had made some secret alli- 
ance with Jung Lu. And this present act was in accord 
with his old spirit of bravado ; he wished to remind her 
that they were Patriots together — allies in the same 
Cause, — that whatever might be her personal feelings 
towards him, there could be no backing out of that. 
And in spite of the hate and repulsion which the quick- 
ened sense of Sam Wang brought her, she began soon to 
experience a positive relief, rising from some unsounded 
depths of fatalism hidden in her nature. 

Had she not instinctively felt that without Sam Wang 
she could do nothing? Well, here he was! She had 
only to yield herself to his guidance again, and she could 
— she should — accomplish her mission. His puppet! — 
but what of it ? Anything was better than the powerless 
stagnation into which she had felt herself rapidly falling 
as soon as she had been left to herself. If she did not 
hate enough, Sam Wang certainly did! Yet this sense 
of relief was strictly conditioned upon a great reserve 
that she made for herself. He could use her as he liked 
for the Cause, but for her own personal liberty she was 
prepared to fight him forever. 

At this moment she refused to reckon with that strong 
opposite current of her blood — with her love for Andrew 
Handel. It did not — it could not — exist she told her- 
self fiercely. Her nature was made for action, and the 
anticipation of any chance for it now after so much 
sloth, brought out again the red spots in her cheeks, the 
sharp glitter in her eyes. 


THE GREAT SWORD 


215 


She went back to the garden and feasted with Lady 
Jung’s guests until afternoon. But as soon as they were 
gone she was seized by so great a restlessness, that she 
determined there and then to defy Jung Lu’s orders. 
She must positively know without an hour’s delay some- 
thing of what was taking place in the world outside. 
Acting upon this impulse, she saw the chief eunuch and 
commanded him in a tone of authority to prepare a sedan 
for her as she wished to take the air. He demurred, but 
she insisted with so imperious an aspect that he finally 
consented, sending with her a body guard of fourteen 
eunuchs. 

Lady Jung and the subordinate wives watched envi- 
ously (though with no thought of claiming the same 
privilege) as the “Tartar Princess” stepped into her 
sedan and was carried into the city. 


XIV 


S HE had no objective point in view. When the chair 
bearers asked her where she wished to go she re- 
plied vaguely, “I will go twelve li and then return.” 
A li is Si third of a mile. They carried her at random 
about the city. 

She parted the curtains of the sedan and looked out. 
An unusual calm prevailed in the streets — a calm which 
seemed to Mahlee almost like suspense, as if the old city 
were unconsciously waiting for something. Above her 
in the sunny air, flocks of pigeons, let loose from all 
points of the compass, were making a vibrant melody. 
For the Chinese attach to the tails of these birds, small 
hollow gourds piped like diminutive organs through 
which the air passes as through inolian harps. Below, 
on the streets, in familiar concourse with dogs and naked 
babies, scores of magpies pecked about in a friendly way, 
or stopped to plume their black and white feathers; 
while above them on the branches of trees, or on the tops 
of walls and houses, innumerable crows, more cautious, 
as well as more cunning than the magpies, kept up a 
continual harsh cawing. The camels were losing in this 
warm weather their shaggy coats which adhered in 
shreds to their leathery hides and hung in bunches from 
their humps. The little donkeys from the country 
seemed meeker and more tired than usual under their 
straddlers, or over-loaded panniers, and the belled and 
caparisoned mules, between their swaying litters, looked 
jaded in the heat. But the hot sun was evidently agree- 
able to some childish old men whom Mahlee saw en- 
gaged in the pastime of spinning tops. One of them had 
a bat-shaped kite which he was trying in vain to raise 

216 


217 


THE GREAT SWORD 

» 

into the motionless air. Past them, two senile-looking 
children tottered under heavy burdens. Over all, the 
fine dust, carried by imperceptible currents from the 
desert of the Gobi, drifted into the city unceasingly. 

For although the brightness of the June afternoon 
may have touched the gildings of the shop-fronts and the 
faience of the ancient roofs to a gleam of their original 
splendour, it was the same Peking, worn and tarnished 
and stained, which Mahlee had known since babyhood, — 
the old barbaric city where for two millenniums, men 
and women and beasts, and little naked babies, have 
mingled in the streets by generations, honey-combing 
into each other so nicely that the differences of age and 
custom from one cycle to another have been scarcely 
perceptible. 

But, to-day, the torpour of the streets seemed to Mahlee 
ominous. She had the indescribable sense of something 
impending, something about to occur never before known 
or imagined. The city appeared to her like a mighty 
opium-eater sinking into that state of complete lethargy 
when direful visions begin. In another moment, as in 
the brain of a De Quincey, the theatre would be ‘ ‘ opened 
and lighted,’^ the monstrous drama would commence to 
unroll itself with all the ‘‘weight of incubus and night- 
mare.” 

Suddenly a tremor ran through her. Her sedan had 
turned into the Ha-Ta Great Street through which some 
months before she had been carried in her palanquin as 
Goddess of the Red Lantern Light. Now something else 
was happening here ! She peered down the long vista 
between the gilded shops with their flaming scarlet and 
green sign-boards in the direction of the colossal gate 
which terminated it. But although comparatively near, 
she could not see the gate. It was hidden by an im- 
mense column of dust, which, as she watched, broke and 
began to roll in huge billows towards her. In advance 
of it, she could see the vehicles and the pedestrians 


218 


THE RED LANTERN 


quicken their pace until they were all on a dead run, 
In the gorgeous old avenue, they looked like leaves driven 
before a gale. Her chair-bearers had just time to carry 
her into the shelter of an open gateway near the corner 
of Legation Street before a man on a horse whirled by, 
galloping furiously and waving his arms in fearful 
amaze. 

‘ ' They ’re coming ! They ’re coming ! ” he shouted. — 
‘ ‘ The Spirit Soldiers, — eight million of them ! ’ ’ 

Mahlee’s heart stood still, then beat again wildly. 
The Boxers ! They were here ! The running of the Pe- 
kingese became swifter and more panic-stricken until it 
was a veritable stampede. Drivers of carts and mule- 
litters leapt to the shafts of their vehicles and lashed 
their animals like mad-men. A whole train of camels, 
spurred to frenzy, broke into an appalling gallop, with 
huge necks outstretched, and mouths opened in hideous 
cries of rage. Donkeys brayed, dogs howled, children 
screamed ; small-footed women, snatching babies to their 
arms, hobbled wildly, sobbing and calling upon all their 
ancestors for help. And as the wheels and shafts of the 
vehicles became tangled together, the air grew loud with 
curses. 

‘ ‘ May demons carry you off ! ” 

“May fish be your coffin and water be your grave !” 

“May you be thrown on the Mountain of Knives !” 

‘ ‘ May you be fried in the caldron of Oil ! ’ ’ 

Before she had seen a single Boxer, Mahlee was half 
suffocated by the dust, and all but deafened by the din. 
Then, again, her heart stopped beating. For advancing 
up the street upon an immense black mule with scarlet 
trappings, in the full regalia of a Boxer chief, she saw 
Sam Wang. He looked as one who had ridden fast and 
far. His big head wound about with a red cloth was 
thrown slightly backwards on his short massive neck 
from which the veins stood out like purple cords. Even 


THE' GREAT SWORD 


219 


from a distance^ Mahlee could see that he was sweating 
profusely, and that his eyes were bloodshot with the heat 
and dust. But his enormous barrel-chest heaved ex- 
ultantly, and his whole face shone with so cruel a power 
that the girl instinctively shrank back into the farthest 
recesses of her sedan. 

“Kwanti! Kwanti! The Great War-God!’’ the peo- 
ple cried and fled before him. 

When Mahlee looked again, he was within a few yards 
of her, and she could see his smile, — the smile which she 
knew and hated ! He rode in the midst of forty young 
lads, all wearing the insignia of the I Ho Ch’uan. 
They typifled the countless hosts of “spirits” hovering 
unseen above the ranks of the faithful. Waving flags 
proclaimed their motto: “Spirits and Fists mutually 
assist.” Behind them, pouring in a swift and steady 
stream through the Ha-Ta Gate came the Boxers. There 
were myriads of them. In full uniform of red sash, 
shoes, and headcloth, their eyes burning like live coals 
in their yellow faces, they rushed up the street, while 
from their throats burst, like a monstrous reiterated 
croak, the double word: “Sha-shao” (kill-burn). 
Through the vast dust that they raised, they looked to 
Mahlee like lurid demons advancing in clouds of smoke.. 

When he had arrived at a point directly opposite to 
her, Sam Wang stopped. The forty lads, also, stood 
stock still, and the hordes behind, thus checked, swayed 
backwards simultaneously like a tide which has sud- 
denly turned. The effect was so frightful, that Mahlee 
clenched the sides of her sedan and went pale to the 
lips. Had he seen her? “My God! My God!” 

But in another instant, she perceived that she had 
not been detected. He appeared merely to be listening 
intently, with head turned towards the street of the for- 
eign legations at the corner of which he now stood. 
Suddenly, around it, came a masked rider who at once 


220 


THE KED LANTEKN 


approached Sam Wang and began to talk rapidly. The 
two men were so close to her that Mahlee could catch 
most of the words. 

“Legations preparing to fire on patriots entering by 
Ch’ien Gate. Not wise yet to attack them. Go now 
to north of city Destroy Roman Catholic Cathedrals. 
Burn all mission stations and homes of Christians. Kill 
without mercy. Come to-morrow to my house. The girl 
is there. Will present her in a few days before the Em- 
press. ^ ^ 

— Ah! . . . Mahlee gasped. The voice was that 

of Jung Lu, who had dropped his tone of ceremony and 
was talking like a soldier. Sam Wang bowed from his 
saddle in acknowledgment of the great general’s orders, 
though it was clear that he was disappointed not to be 
" permitted to attack the legations immediately. 

As Jung Lu turned away, the sharp firing of machine- 
guns split the air. Mahlee saw Sam Wang pause, even 
hesitate. He was evidently itching to respond at once 
to that challenge. But he merely grinned defiantly; 
and she heard him say in English as if to himself: 

“Well, their turn will come soon enough. Meanwhile 
a little fun at the cathedrals. And our dear old Ark of 
the Covenant — that will make a pretty bonfire 1” 

With an exultant guffaw he raised himself in his sad- 
dle, and spurred his big mule into a gallop. Then, for 
what seemed to Mahlee an eternity, the world was blot- 
ted out in dust, through which the trampling of myriads 
of feet, and the horrid croak of “Sha-shao” rose to her 
ears in a maddening crescendo. 


XY 


S soon as she could breathe and see again, Mahlee 



leaned out of her sedan and gave a series of sharp 
imperative orders to her chair-bearers. They did not at 
once understand and she repeated with the utmost im- 
patience. 

“Foreign Mission on Pheasant Lane near Anting 
Gate. Use all the short cuts possible; get ahead of the 
soldiers. Go quickly! quickly!” 

But when they were in motion she was still dissatis- 
fied; every moment or two she opened the curtains and 
cried : 

“Up this street now! through this alley! Faster! fas- 
ter!” until the men were running with the chair. It 
was only when she saw that the column of dust which 
represented the Boxer battalions was actually behind her, 
that her face lost a little of its haggard look; and even 
then she sat with her body bent tensely forward as if 
ready to spring from the vehicle and run herself, should 
there be a second’s delay. 

For the last words she had heard Sam Wang utter, 
had left a single burning point of consciousness in her 
brain. He was going with his devils to the Ark of the 
Covenant Mission. Andrew was there. — She must save 
him! . . . She had no definite idea of how she 

would do it; least of all did she realise the utter incon- 
sistency of her action with her scheme of vengeance, — 
or the vow she had taken as Goddess of the Boxers. She 
only sat with clenched hands and rigid face praying that 
she should not be too late. At last they turned her chair 
into Pheasant Lane. The little street was quiet, almost 
deserted, in fact. Thank Heaven ! she was in time. She 


221 


222 


THE RED LANTERN 


flung herself out at the big west gate of the mission; it 
was open, but neither of the old watchmen who usually 
kept guard appeared. Not waiting to wonder at this 
circumstance, she went in and ran through court after 
court, calling aloud the names of Andrew Handel and 
of the other missionaries. Getting no reply, she en- 
tered the houses whose doors like the gate of the com- 
pound were open, and continued her calling. Nobody ! 
The truth suddenly flashed upon her. The missionaries 
had received some previous warning and had fled. They 
had evidently taken with them, too, the Chinese Chris- 
tians connected with the mission; for the boys’ and 
girls’ school houses, the women’s hospital and the chapel 
were all alike empty. 

There were other signs to show her that her surmise 
w^as correct. In the Parmelees’ house a tmink half 
packed with children’s clothes stood in the middle of the 
sitting room floor, probably abandoned at the last mo- 
ment because of its weight. In the rooms of the ‘ ‘ ladies ’ ’ 
at the girls’ school, the floors were strewn with gar- 
ments which had been thrown from the wardrobes, so 
that a selection could be more quickly made. In a gilt 
cage, without seed or water, Miss Dorn’s canary was dy- 
ing. Half mechanically,. Mahlee filled up its little tanks ; 
then slowly returned to the Court of Lilacs. 

For at the discovery that she had come on a useless 
errand, a strong reaction of feeling had begun to set in. 
In truth, without admitting it to herself, she was bit- 
terly disappointed that Andrew had already fled— that 
he had had no need of her even to be saved. She leaned 
against the trunk of the old locust tree under which they 
had stood together a year ago, and felt again that un- 
utterable sense of defeat which had shot through her 
when he had dropped her hand on its way to his lips. 
With the memory, her old resentment began to return 
upon her and she accused herself furiously of being a 
traitor in having come here to save him. Yet the very 


THE GREAT SWORD 


223 


realisation of her relapse paralysed her. To whom, to 
what did she now belong? — ambiguous wretch that she 
was ! Could she be sure, if Andrew should appear, that 
even at this moment she would not cast herself at his 
feet ? 

Then suddenly, as if to put an end to her dilemma, 
the horrible reiterated croak of the Boxers filled the air : 
Sha-shao ! Sha-shao ! Sha-shao ! 

They had reached the mission. 

Mahlee threw her head back and laughed wildly. 

‘‘My Voices ! My Voices !” she cried, rushing into the 
court and through it to the gate of the compound. 

“Come on! Come on! Come and burn our dear old 
Ark of the Covenant. It will make a pretty bonfire !” 

The next instant, she was face to face with Sam Wang. 
He stared at her speechlessly; then in a flash took in the 
situation. 

“Back! back!^’ he cried to his braves in a tone of 
thunder. “Let my wife pass to her sedan.” 

And with strange dignity, he offered her his arm and 
helped her himself into the chair. 

It was not until she was half way back to Jung Lu’s 
house, that the girl turned, and through the rear window 
of the sedan, saw the old mission in flames. For the rest 
of the journey she sobbed like a sick child. 


XVI 


L ate in the afternoon of the 16th of June a Grand 
Council was assembled in the I Luan Hall of the 
‘'Purple Forbidden City.” Their Majesties, the Em- 
peror and the Empress Dowager of China, seated side by 
side on thrones, received the Manchu Princes, Dukes and 
high officials, both Chinese and Manchu, of the Six 
Boards and Nine Ministries. 

It was a brilliant company. Through the windows of 
the great room the horizontal sunbeams brought out the 
sheen of marvellous silks and touched to high light the 
jewelled buttons and aigrets of the Mandarins’ hats. 
The nobles of the two highest grades were distinguish- 
able by red coral buttons, plain and chased, with cor- 
responding civil badges of the White Crane and the 
Golden Pheasant and military insignia of the Unicorn 
and the Lion ; while the six following grades were repre- 
sented respectively by buttons of sapphire, lapis lazuli, 
rock crystal, adularia and plain and chased gold. The 
tunics of the courtiers, reaching below the knee, and 
tightly belted in at the waist in imitation of the Em- 
peror’s slender figure, displayed the Double Dragon in 
rich embroidery over the back and breast. Besides this 
decoration the young Manchu dandies sported magnifi- 
cent belt buckles in carved jade or gold set with precious 
stones, and had hanging from their belts a number of 
jewelled cases for watches, knives, fans and chopsticks. 

In contrast with their gorgeousness, the Emperor, 
Kwang-Hsu, looked almost plain. Dressed in a long 
yellow robe, girded about his slim waist, his unique 
ornament was the great “Flaming Pearl” of the Dynasty 
worn as a button in his hat. He had, indeed, the air 

224 


THE GREAT SWORD 


225 


of some absent-minded ascetic who had wandered in by 
mistake, his heavy drooping lids and thin compressed 
lips expressing a mixture of ennui and troubled fore- 
boding which betrayed itself likewise in a continual 
clasping and unclasping of his inordinately long and 
lean hands. He attracted few glances, and such as he 
did receive, were, for the most part, ones of pity from 
those who realised his helplessness. For although their 
IMajesties sat side by side, it was the Aunt and not the 
Nephew who ruled the Council and to whom every eye 
was now turned. 

“C^est le seul homme de la Chine,’’ has been said of 
her, but those who saw her upon that day must have 
pronounced her rather a marvellous manifestation of the 
Eternal Feminine wielding supreme power in a land 
where all other women were slaves. 

Tze-Shi was then in her sixty-sixth year, but appeared 
like a handsome woman in her prime. The throne upon 
which she sat was heightened by cushions to give room 
for the six inch heels of her Manchu slippers, a device 
which made her seem much taller than she really was; 
the imposing effect of her figure being increased, too, by 
the long unbroken line of her tunic of Imperial Yellow 
which fell in one piece from neck to floor over a soft 
under-gown of the same hue and contour. 

This outer garment was of very stiff transparent silk, 
showing a design worked in pearls over a brocade of 
wisteria blossoms. Out of its immense sleeves, the old 
Dowager’s hands appeared as small as a child’s and still 
marvellously beautiful, suggesting a sensitiveness of touch 
as acute as that of an insect’s antennas. The wrists were 
clasped with bracelets, and the fingers adorned by rings 
and nail protectors wrought in gold and polished jade. 
Above them, against the dark carving of the Double 
Dragon Throne, the head of the Empress appeared at 
first glance like a magnificent piece of jewel work set in 
a sombre frame, an impression due not only to her daz- 
15 


226 


THE RED LANTERN 


zling coiffure composed in the Manchu winged bow style 
with a profusion of precious stones to relieve the jet-like 
blackness of the hair, but also to the astonishing bril- 
liancy of her eyes which flashed in her head like two su- 
perb black diamonds. At this moment, their sparkling 
seemed the result of a concentrated energy of purpose 
which was reflected on the broad brow, slightly knitted 
above them, and in the expression of the large mobile 
mouth. 

She lifted an exquisite hand as she opened the Coun- 
cil, and her voice when she spoke was as melodious as a 
pagoda bell with a strange vibrating undertone wliich 
betrayed her passion. 

“The Foreign Powers,” she said, “have browbeaten 
and persecuted us in such a manner that we cannot 
endure this any longer. We must therefore combine to 
fight all foreigners to the last, to save our ‘face’ in the 
eyes of the world. All our Manchu Princes, Dukes, No- 
bles, and Ministers high and low are unanimous in this 
determination for war to the knife, and I approve their 
patriotic choice. I therefore give you all this announce- 
ment and expect all to do their duty to their country.” 

There was an almost unanimous murmur of approba- 
tion among the silken-clad exquisites who had dropped 
to their knees at the sound of the Imperial Voice. But 
as the Empress bade them rise again, not a few dis- 
satisfied glances were rapidly interchanged. The sharp 
eyes of the old Dowager were the first to perceive these 
signs of discontent, and immediately she invited an open 
discussion of the question. An awkward pause ensued; 
then, Hsii Ching Ch’eng, ex-Minister to Russia, and 
President of the Manchurian Railway, advanced with 
some hesitation, and kowtowing again before the throne, 
begged that her Majesty’s decision be reconsidered, since 
it was impracticable to fight all the Powers at once. 

At his words, the face of the Empress darkened per- 
ceptibly, but the Emperor, for the first time raised his 


THE GREAT SWORD 


227 


heavy lids, and seemed on the point of giving an eager 
assent to the counsel, when his august Aunt stopped him 
by an impatient gesture. 

The mandarin Kang I, known to be a favourite of the 
Dowager, and one of the boldest partisans of the I Ho 
Ch’uan, had flung himself face downwards before the 
throne and was speaking rapidly. 

“0 Highest Wisdom of the Ages, Worshipful Sover- 
eigns,’’ he cried, “never permit your ears to be again 
insulted by such base and cowardly words as have just 
been uttered and which proceed from no true patriot. 
For this glorious war into which we are about to enter 
will be entirely unlike all former conflicts insomuch as 
we have now the valiant Boxers in innumerable com- 
panies known as the Public Harmony Braves who, being 
invulnerable alike to sword or bullet, will so mightily 
reinforce your Majesties’ armies that the whole world 
must fall before us like wheat before a sickle.” 

The Dowager greeted this prophecy with a charming 
smile which displayed her dazzling white teeth. “Aye,” 
she cried, nodding her head emphatically, “the I Ho 
Ch’uan is a grand Society, full of valour and patriot- 
ism. 

But she had scarcely expressed her approbation when 
a third Mandarin bowed before her. This was Yuan 
Ch’ang, a Minister of the Tsung Li Yamen or Bureau of 
Foreign Affairs. 

“August and incomparable Lights of Knowledge,” he 
said, “let not your hearts be deceived by vain preten- 
sions, nor give you hearing to fools. But listen rather 
to true science. Yesterday, being, myself, an eye wit- 
ness of the Boxer attacks upon the legations, I beheld the 
scene of the conflict strewn with the bodies of their lead- 
ing men each with a bullet or two through them. How 
then can these fellows be invulnerable?” 

The question appeared to be highly indiscreet, for the 
Empress reddened visibly, though it might have been 


228 


THE RED LANTERN 


remarked that the lips of the young man at her side 
formed themselves into an enigmatic smile. 

“You must be mistaken/^ the Dowager exclaimed 
shortly. “Those dead men you saw can not possibly 
have been Boxers, but worthless outlaws whom the gods 
have justly destroyed. But as for the noble patriots of 
the I Ho Ch’uan, I know well that they cannot be 
wounded by sword or bullet or any other projectile, for I 
have watched them myself at crucial tests and the results 
are indisputable.” 

This promptly extinguished the Minister of the Tsung 
Li Yamen, who retired into the back of the hall with a 
perceptible grimace. 

But the Marquis Tseng, who was known to have had 
relations with the foreigners for many years, now 
dropped to his knees and after apostrophising both their 
Majesties, said: 

“If fight there must be, let it not take place in Peking, 
but in some more advantageous position; and above all 
let the legations be respected. Some of the Powers are 
entirely friendly to China; must we fight them all 
alike?” 

The Dowager looked gloomy, and made no attempt to 
answer the question, but the Emperor began to show 
signs of life. His enigmatic smile broadened, and he 
even ventured to give a slight encouraging nod to a 
Mandarin, standing behind the Marquis, who appeared 
to desire audience. It was Na T ’ung, a recent accession 
to the Yamen, who, alone, of all the Manchus was op- 
posed to the policy of war. At the Emperor’s gesture, 
he prostrated himself and performing the kowtow: 

' ‘ Great Ancestress, be happy ! ’ ’ cried he. “0 Son of 
Heaven, attain a serene old age ! But never darken the 
resplendent glory of your reign by an unjust and foolish 
war such as certain evil counsellors now advise. Rather 
let the unsullied splendour of Peace — ” 


THE GREAT SWORD 


229 


He was interrupted by hisses and vituperations from 
his clansmen. “Traitor! Coward!” 

The Emperor raised a silencing hand. “Nay, hear 
him out, ’ ’ he commanded. 

But the insulted Mandarin had leapt to his feet and 
was facing his accusers. 

“Very well,” he cried in the accent of one who ad- 
dresses unreasonable children. “Have your way then, 
but if you must fight, go at least out of Peking nearer 
the coast. ’ ’ He turned away abruptly as if washing his 
hands of the whole matter. 

The Empress Dowager glared at him, and looked to 
her favourite, Kang I, to reply. 

“I suggest,” said that gentleman laconically, “that Na 
T’ung and Hsii Ching Ch’eng, who oppose our policy, be 
appointed to go out to meet the Seymour Expedition 
which is now on its way from Tientsin for the relief of 
the Legations, and stop its advance.” 

This proposal was greeted with tremendous applause, 
for everybody understood that it was made in the hope 
that the two “unpatriotic” mandarins would be killed 
in the attempt. 

The Empress smiled again, thanked Kang I very 
sweetly for his suggestion, and promised him that it 
should be acted upon at once. The fatal resolution for 
“War to the Knife” seemed about to be carried. But 
the Emperor’s long sallow face suddenly purpled with 
emotion. He straightened his slight form, and spoke 
with dignity, though, even in his passion, his voice re- 
mained monotonous and without carrying quality. 

“August Mother, great and venerable Ancestress,” he 
said, turning towards the throne at his side. “Before 
bringing the Council to an end, I humbly beseech you 
to reconsider this dangerous decision to fight all the for- 
eign nations. For such a movement once inaugurated 
will make peace an impossibility in the future, and the 


230 


THE RED LANTERN 


destruction of the country imminent. Oh, let us pause 
before we hurl ourselves headlong into an abyss. 

The Chinese ojhcials who had plead for peace cried 
out in high approval at these imploring words, but the 
old Dowager deigned no other response than a frown 
and a renewal of her gesture of impatience. Encour- 
aged by her displeasure, the Manchus began loudly to re- 
vile the Chinese of the opposition who in their own turn 
grew furious. 

‘‘Traitors! Enemies!” they cried out upon each other 
with fierce gesticulations, their slant Tartar eyes blaz- 
ing, their jewelled buttons flashing in the horizontal sun- 
beams. The Council broke up in a storm of mutual 
vituperation. 


XYII 


I N this Council of June 16 th, the Manchu Generalis- 
simo, Jung Lu, had kept silent. In truth, his situa- 
tion was now, more than ever, one which required nice 
balancing. For he had been appointed by the Empress 
on that very day ‘‘Guardian of the Legations” and his 
advice had been sought by the foreigners themselves as 
to the best positions for the Chinese soldiers in defend- 
ing them. More than this, the throne had issued a de-i 
cree informing the Yamen that soldiers had been ordered 
to patrol the city as a protection against the “bad char- 
acters” who were disturbing the peace. Some hours 
later, in the I Luan Hall, Jung Lu heard these same 
“bad characters” exalted up to the sky as “noble pa- 
triots and Public Harmony Braves.” It was easy to 
understand that the Empress Dowager meant to con- 
tinue her ambiguous policy to the last possible moment — 
stroking her intended victims with the velvet paw until 
the precise instant came when she should feel her claws 
sharp enough to begin her deadly scratching! 

The General-in-chief was therefore in no haste to com- 
mit himself in this initial assembly. In the first place, 
he was loath to antagonise the Chinese officials, who were 
now opposed to the Manchu policy, but upon whose final 
co-operation he counted. Then, as the newly-appointed 
Guardian of the Legations, it would have been scarcely 
becoming, even within the walled privacy of the palace, 
for him to urge a massacre of all the inmates of those 
same legations I But at heart he hated the foreigners 
and was as impatient as anyone for their extinction. It 
had cost him an effort three days before to turn away 
the doughty Sam Wang and his braves from Legation 

231 


232 


THE RED LANTERN 


Street to the milder sport of killing Catholics in the 
north of the city. And since that time other bands of 
Boxers had actually attacked the legations without in- 
terference on the part of the Manchu general. He rec- 
ognised with keen enjoyment the ironic humour of his 
present Guardianship. To his Oriental mind, his ap- 
pointment to such a position seemed a proof of colossal 
cunning and wit on the part of the old Dowager. 

For the nonce she had imposed silence upon him, but 
he was sure that she wished him soon to find a voice — ^if 
not his own, then one which should speak for him, and 
speak with authority. And what more authoritative 
voice could there be than that proceeding from a rein- 
carnated heroine of history — the great Whar Mou Lahn 
herself ? She should be his mouthpiece ! The Comman- 
der-in-chief rubbed his hands with vast content as his 

idea developed within him. 

'• « • • • • • • • 

She looked strangely bloodless, almost like an image in 
old wax, when a few days later, sitting erect in her scar- 
let robes on her red palanquin, she was borne into the 
Council Room. The stillness of her face was so un- 
earthly that it imposed a kind of awe even upon the 
“Illustrious Patriot Ching Lin,’’ who, arrayed as a man- 
darin in a long dragon-emblazoned tunic, and hat 
adorned with the sapphire button and peacock feathers, 
had summoned her from her far-off home ‘ ‘ in the Eight 
Central Caves. ’ ’ His huge flat face paled a little as the 
eunuchs set the chair beside him in front of the throne. 
“Are we killing her?” he asked himself sharply. 

As for the high potentates, the old Empress, the Em- 
peror, and their grandees, they were breathless with su- 
perstitious fear when in answer to the supreme question : 
‘ ‘ Shall \ye now make war against the world ? ’ ’ uttered by 
the patriot in a low and compelling voice, the lips of the 
Goddess moved in answer. Slowly and monotonously, 
her words fell like icicles in a desolate and frozen place. 


THE GREAT SWORD 


233 


‘‘From North and South, from East and West, the 
cuter Barbarians have come to harass China. Together 
they hold evil councils, and plot that they may filch away 
little by little all our fair land and our harbours. With 
avaricious and malignant design, they come from across 
the sea to devour our substance and mock the gods. So 
I who was erstwhile the warrior-maiden Whar Mou 
Lahn, and am now a Goddess, have come quickly from 
the Central Southern Mountains to summon you all to 
vengeance.’^ 

Suddenly, at the word, the Goddess rose to her feet in 
the palanquin and fixed her eyes with a look of intense 
hatred upon Ching Lin. 

“Vengeance!’’ she cried in an indescribable tone of 
self-mockery. “Ah, that is the fine word I That is what 
satisfies the soul!” Then quailing under the patriot’s 
sudden and formidable scowl, she continued as one who 
achieves a rigmarole utterly devoid of sense. “I, God- 
dess of the Red Lantern Light, with Eight Million Spirit 
Soldiers in my train, command you, now, by the head of 
my father Kwanti, to revenge yourselves upon the for- 
eign devils and drive them one and all into the sea ! ’ ’ 
She sat down again and instantly her lids dropped and 
her face resumed its old immobility. 

But her words were greeted with a storm of applause. 
The Dowager half rose from her throne in her excite- 
ment. 

“Aye! aye!” she cried, wagging her head until the 
jewels in her splendid coiffure gave forth a million col- 
oured glints. “The Goddess has spoken. It is venge- 
ance — war to the knife against the whole world. ’ ’ 

The Manchu Generalissimo echoed her loudly, and all 
the other nobles and mandarins, both Chinese and Man- 
chu, joined in without a single dissenting voice. 

“Vengeance! War to the knife!” 

Only the Emperor remained silent, his face grown 
ashen grey. 


XYIII 


S HE was given a palace, known as The Eotunda, with 
a retinue of eunuchs and tiring-women, and a little 
Manchu handmaiden from the Empress’ own personal 
attendants, called Tsi Chu or “Purple Bamboo.” The 
latter was a pretty and loving child, dressed in gay silks 
with a jewelled fillet about her forehead, who attached 
herself passionately to her new mistress and addressed 
her as “Goddess.” 

The Eotunda Palace is like a circular fort situated 
just opposite the famous Marble Bridge which spans by 
a long and exquisitely graceful arch the moat before the 
Southern Gate of the Forbidden City. Entering the 
low gateway of the palace, one advances by a long in- 
cline to a high and wide terrace where there is a garden 
with century-old trees and little summer pavilions with 
glass walls set like fairy homes among fantastic rockeries 
and flower-pots. In the centre of the place rises a big 
enamelled pagoda sheltering an alabaster goddess in 
golden robes who meditates with drooping eye-lids. 

Here the reincarnated Whar Mou Lahn, dressed still 
in her red robes, walked with her handmaid, Tsi Chu, on 
the morning following her arrival in the Forbidden City. 
It was the twentieth day of June, and sultry even at this 
elevation. Standing by the pagoda, she let her gaze 
wander over the strange factitious landscape. In one 
direction, like a vast pink mirage, stretched the Imperial 
Lake of the Lotus, celebrated for centuries by Chinese 
poets, its surface almost covered by the great open calices 
of the flowers for which it is named. Above the trees on 
its shores, appeared the glittering roofs of other pavil- 

234 


THE GREAT SWORD 


235 


ions and pagodas, each more fanciful than its neighbour. 
These, Tsi Chu explained, were retreats for the Imperial 
ladies, where, seated among silken cushions, they could 
embroider or drink tea to the sound of cithern and lute, 
while they looked at the pink lotus blossoms on the lake 
at their feet. The young Empress, Ye-Ho-Na-Lah, first 
wife of the Emperor, the little maid said, had a kiosk 
especially for herself, all yellow inside with wonderful 
things in ivory and gold and cloisonne. And sometimes 
the Emperor would go in there with her; but she never 
seemed happy, and was very thin. For it was the 
‘‘Second Wife” who was loved the best. 

Over against the lake lay the Violet City itself — 
an endless series of Imperial palaces, led up to by 
colossal avenues, but appearing from this high point 
like one great sea of faience out of which, on the crest 
of steep gables, issued the horned heads of fabulous 
beasts. And enclosing them all about, doubly, triply, 
quadruply, as in some ever-narrowing prison, rose the 
palace walls ! — walls within walls, a veritable labyrinth 
of huge vermilion-coloured bulwarks surmounted by tow- 
ers more ponderous and incomprehensible still. This was 
the Heart of Peking, the sacred and awful abode of 
the Son of Heaven! 

The gazer sighed profoundly and moved as one suf- 
fering from an incurable weariness. The little hand- 
maid hearing the sigh dropped to her knees. 

“0 glorious Goddess!” she said, “do not our palaces 
please you? Are they not beautiful enough?” 

Her mistress had an odd smile at this, and answered 
in a tongue unknown to the maid. ‘ ‘ Beautiful ! — 
beautiful as vengeance and death!” she said and 
laughed aloud harshly. 

The young girl shrank a little, then catching sight 
of a figure approaching through the trees, cried in 
sudden terror: 

“Oh! the ugly Mandarin is coming — the new one I 


236 


THE RED LANTERN 


dread, with the sapphire button and peacock feathers. 
Let us escape, honourable Goddess ! ’ ’ 

Her mistress turned listlessly; then seeing who it 
was, stiffened and paled. 

‘‘Go into the pagoda and stay until I call you,” she 
said in a low voice to Tsi Chu. “It is the Illustrious 
Patriot, Ching Lin, with whom I must converse alone.” 

The little maid, nothing loath, fled into the sanctuary 
and hid herself behind the alabaster image. The man- 
darin advanced with long strides, the skirts of his wine- 
coloured silk robe straining at the knees. He was pant- 
ing as he drew up before the pagoda, and the sweat 
rolled profusely from under his official hat. His eyes 
were alight with an indescribable gleam. In his hand 
he held a revolver, 

‘ ‘ Mahlee ! ” he cried exultantly. 

She gave one curious startled look at the weapon he 
carried, before she returned his greeting. 

“Dr. Wang!” 

Her voice was fearless, but he had followed her glance 
and burst into a ringing laugh. 

“Don’t be afraid! I’m not going to shoot you. If 
you got the better of me once with the help of fate, I 
hold you no grudge. Besides we’ve done all the shoot- 
ing necessary this morning. And it’s a fine enough 
bird we’ve brought down for the nonce. . . . It’s 

off the program for me to see you alone, I know, but I 
could not resist bringing you the great news in per- 
son. . . . His Excellency, Baron Von Ketteler, 

Minister of Germany to the Chinese Court, shot and 
killed, less than an hour ago on his way to the Tsung 
Li Yamen. How is that for a starter?” He gave an- 
other self-satisfied guffaw. 

She uttered an inarticulate cry, then gasped. ‘'You 
did that?” 

He noted her shuddering disgust and laughed more 
coldly. 


THE GREAT SWORD 


237 


‘^Just who fired the shot is a state secret, my girl, 
which even you shall not know. But I can tell you 
this much : a Manchu guard was present and ap- 
proved the shooting, and I was of that guard. And 
whoever did the actual killing, it’s done, and well 
done. ... I must say the temerity of the man was 
amazing. He and his interpreter left Legation Street 
in a sedan with absolutely no escort, and were visibly 
unarmed. A most touching faith in human nature, 
upon my soul! . . . He fell at the mouth of the 

Tsung Pu Alley, — must have been killed instantly for 
he didn’t budge from the chair. The bearers bolted, 
and the interpreter escaped by a miracle into the 
Methodist Mission though he appeared to be badly 
wounded.” 

With the recital, Sam Wang’s excitement had risen 
again, and oblivious to his hearer’s look, he burst out 
with renewed exultation. 

“Yes, my girl, the irrevocable step is taken; the 
greatest international crime on record has just been 
committed. It is now, indeed, war to the knife 1 ’ ’ 

And in an excess of jubilation, as if throwing out a 
challenge to the whole world, he suddenly pointed his 
pistol upward into the air and fired. 

The effect of the shot upon the young woman before 
him was like that which might have been produced 
by a dash of vitriol in her face. She clenched her 
hands in a vain effort at self-control, then broke out 
sharply. 

“Go! go at once, if you don’t wish to kill me!” 

For a moment Sam Wang’s bushy brows knitted in 
his redoubtable scowl, but it was only for a moment. 
At sight of her slight shaken figure and quivering face, 
strangely silhouetted against the big gaudy pagoda, he 
appeared to experience some change of emotion. Slowly 
his expression softened. Instead of withdrawing, he 
came nearer. 


2^8 


THE RED LANTERN 


“Mahlee/^ he said in a low voice, ‘‘speaJi even now 
one word of love and I will give it all up.’^ 

Her surprise mastered her. 

“You would give it up — for me!’' 

“Yes,” he answered with the same low eagerness, “I 
will give it up, and we will go and live together in some 
undiscovered land a thousand leagues away.” 

For an appreciable instant their eyes met and her 
own grew less hard. What if after all, this were the 
right answer to her life riddle? She moved uneasily. 
Seeing his advantage, he approached still closer and, 
as once before, opened his huge arms to her. The 
gesture was fatal. The memory of that hideous night 
at the East Bell Street dispensary suddenly over- 
whelmed he^ , and she drew back shuddering. 

“No! no!” she cried, shaking her head. “It is im- 
possible — utterly, forever impossible!” 

His scowl lowered again. But without another word, 
he swept off his peacock-plumed hat, bowed like a cav- 
alier, and went away through the old trees. 

As soon as he was gone, the girl put her hands to 
her throat as one who suffers from strangulation. 

“Tsi Chu! Tsi Chu!” she called. 

The little maid came running out of the pagoda with 
round alarmed eyes. From her hiding-place she had 
seen the shooting into the air, but true to her training, 
asked no questions. 

“Tell the eunuchs to prepare a sedan,” her mistress 
commanded, “I am suffocating here and must go out 
on the streets awhile.” 

“Yes, Glorious Goddess.” 


XIX 


S HE was possessed by the same wild unrest which 
had sent her into the streets on the day of the com- 
ing of the Boxers, and now, as then, she had no idea 
whither she wished to go. Only one question had been 
reiterating itself in the back of her mind since her last 
visit to the Ark of the Covenant which she had left 
burning behind her: Where were the missionaries? — 
Where was Andrew Handel? 

Doubtless Jung Lu and Sam Wang, knew, but even if 
she had had the opportunity, she would have been too 
proud to ask them. She was certain, however, that the 
missionaries had not left the city, as all exit had long 
since been shut off by the Boxers and the Imperial 
troops. 

She was aware, indeed, of the treacherous offers of es- 
cort out of Peking which had been made to the Foreign 
Legations by the Throne. But she knew also, to her 
infinite secret relief, that these offers had been refused. 
If her jealous passion, together with the thought of the 
wrongs which fate had imposed upon her, had more than 
once stirred the Tartar blood in her veins to the fierce 
tune of “vengeance,” she had no lust for cold massacre. 
She abhorred the thought of anything less than a “fair 
game,” as Sam Wang once promised it should be. The 
cowardly assassination of the German Minister had re- 
volted every instinct of her soul. 

Yet she was one of the Boxers now — their Goddess — 
their Whar Mou Lahn — the Jeanne d’Arc of China! 
She had given her oath of fealty to the cause of driving 
every foreigner into the sea, as the glib formula went. 
Ill or well she had chosen sides. Again and again, she 

239 


240 


THE RED LANTERN 


repeated to herself : “I have a great motive in life, — a 
mighty mission to fulfil.” 

But once on the streets in her sedan, she felt like a 
rudderless boat on the waves, driven by the wind and 
tossed. Her one unreasoning desire was to know 
whether Andrew Handel and the other missionaries had 
found a refuge. A phrase in Sam Wang’s story of the 
murder of Baron Von Ketteler came to her. . . . 

“The interpreter escaped into the Methodist Mission.” 
She knew the compound of this mission to be a large en- 
closure about half a mile distant from Legation Street. 
It could accommodate many missionaries and Chinese 
Christians in case there were need for mutual protec- 
tion, and it had the advantage of being close to the for- 
eign ambassadors. A sudden idea fiashed into her mind. 
It was to this place that the members of the Ark of the 
Covenant had doubtless fled. And Andrew was with 
them! A bitter but overwhelming longing to look once 
more upon his face mastered her. 

She gave an order to her bearers to take her to the 
Filial Piety Alley in which the Methodist Mission lay. 
Her hope was that she might catch a glimpse of him 
through the gate. But as it chanced, she had no sooner 
turned into the lane than she saw him I 

He was walking slowly behind a small body of Amer- 
ican marines at the head of some hundred and thirty 
Chinese school girls, who were in turn followed by a large 
number of native women and children, all carrying bur- 
dens of food and clothing. A large band of Chinese 
men and boys, also loaded with bundles, came after ; then 
a number of German marines bearing a wounded man 
on a stretcher. A group of missionaries, men, women 
and children, brought up the rear. 

Mahlee understood instantly the meaning of the pro- 
cession. As she had guessed, all the Protestant mis- 
sionaries in Peking had come together into the Meth- 
odist station, as a means of guarding themselves against 


THE GREAT SWORD 


241 


the fanatical Boxers. But now that a ]\Ianchu guard 
had fired on a foreign ^linister, war was understood to be 
formally declared between China and the world, and all 
foreign civilians had been ordered into the Legation 
quarters for more sufficient protection. The wounded 
man on the stretcher was undoubtedly the German in- 
terpreter who had accompanied Baron Yon Ketteler and 
‘‘escaped by a miracle.” The Chinese Christians had 
been allowed to foUow. 

Mahlee spoke to her bearers through a crack in the 
curtains of her sedan. 

“Stop here, close to the wall on the right. I wish to 
Bee these people pass.” 

Pass! The word had the echo of fate. Passing — 
passing onward out of her life forever — ^the man whom 
she loved I He was directly in front of her now, and so 
near that if she had opened the curtains and extended 
her arm she might almost have touched him. Involun- 
tarily, she leaned towards him, pressing her forehead 
to the narrow aperture. She could see his pale eyes 
rest vaguely for a moment on the closed sedan. Some 
slight obstruction in the narrow street even caused him 
to pause. He turned and said some reassuring word to 
the fiock of frightened girls behind him. Then, as the 
street cleared before the marines, he passed gravely on, 
the sunshine lighting the dull blond of his hair to a halo 
of pale gold. In another instant, he had turned the cor- 
ner of the alley and was lost to her sight. She felt her 
heart sink Kke a dead thing within her, yet as one ren- 
dered incapable of other occupation, still continued gaz- 
ing between the crack of the curtains. 

She watched, as through a blur, the strange procession 
file past : The school girls, scared, yet quiet and com- 
posed; the women, the children, the men and the boys 
with calm stoical faces, — Chmese Christians, all, whom 
their spiritual leaders would not abandon in this hour of 
danger. And last, the missionaries themselves, brave, 
16 


242 


THE KED LANTERN 


with the courage of the pure and righteous, even smiling 
a little at the grotesque figures they made with their 
queer unwieldy bundles. In this group, Mahlee saw the 
other members of the Ark of the Covenant; — Mrs. Par- 
melee, weighed down with children’s clothes, walking 
beside her husband, who trundled a bicycle ; their young 
son, looking very manly and determined between his two 
little yellow-haired sisters whom he had grasped tightly 
by the hand ; and hobbling along with them, their small- 
footed Chinese nurse; behind the family, the three “la- 
dies,” — Claribel McGinnis with her arm lovingly en- 
twined in that of her sturdy friend. Dr. Eliza, and one 
or two steps back — pathetically detached from these two 
— Miss Dorn, prim even in this terribly uncertain hour. 
All these she had known — had lived with intimately in 
the daily companionship of mission work. And now 
one and all were passing to almost certain destruction. 

As the rear of the procession rounded the head of the 
alley and turned into the Ha-Ta Great Street, thence to 
file into the legations, like rats into a trap, a strange 
silence fell upon the numerous spectators. There was 
no sign of triumph on the faces of these Orientals, but 
only a profound impassiveness almost like the impas- 
siveness of Nature before a fiat of doom. 

It was only after the procession had quite disappeared 
that Mahlee was startled from the sick spell which held 
her, by sharp cruel cries. Several men with red sashes 
had darted out from some invisible lurking place and 
caught a white-haired Chinese gentleman who had been 
vainly trying to overtake the missionaries. Mahlee 
opened the curtains wider and looked; then gave a cry 
of surprise in recognising the venerable native teacher 
who had taught her the Chinese classics. And now, be- 
fore she could intervene, something terrible happened. 
One of the red-sashed fellows struck the old man a re- 
sounding blow on the back with the hilt of his sword 
and brought him to his Imees. 


THE GKEAT SWORD 


243 


‘‘Are you a Christian?’^ he yelled into his ear sav- 
agely. 

Mahlee held her breath. She knew that the old teacher 
had never up to this time made an open confession of 
his faith. But something in his countenance now fright- 
ened her. Was he going to choose this fatal opportunity 
to acknowledge Christ? 

“Since you ask me,” he said in a clear and steady 
voice, ‘ ‘ I cannot deny it ; I am a Christian. ’ ’ 

With a cry of hatred, the Boxers rushed on him and 
the next instant Mahlee saw the blood spurting red from 
his heart. 

She turned away her eyes, sick to the soul. 0 God! 
0 God ! was this the colour of her vengeance ? 

But the next moment she heard a familiar female 
voice protesting in shrill falsetto : 

“No! no! not I! I am no Christian. I am only a 
poor old woman who worships the gods faithfully, burn- 
ing joss sticks every day. Spare me, good sirs, spare 
me!” 

It was Huang-ma, the old crone reconverted to heath- 
enism, who had been Mahlee ’s servant at East Bell 
Street. 

“Go then!” she heard the Boxers say. “But if ever 
we catch you with any of the Christians we will hack you 
to pieces.” 

She saw the poor creature flutter from their grasp 
like a scared hen. Leaning out, Mahlee spoke again to 
her chair bearers. 

“Bring that woman to me,” she commanded. 

Astonished, but obedient, the eunuchs took her up and 
tossed her into the sedan. 

Mahlee went back to the palace with the old crone 
crouching at her feet. 


P KECISELY at the stroke of four on that same after- 
noon, the troops of General Tung Fu Hsiang 
opened fire on the Austrian Embassy, and the famous 
Siege of the Legations in Peking which for almost two 
months was destined to hold the world horror-struck, 
began. 

These first assailants were no others than those ‘‘ter- 
rible legions” from the wild west of Kansu of whom 
Lady Jung’s visitors had spoken with bated breath 
some montlis before. As a close second to them, ap- 
peared the troops of Jung Lu, who, obedient to a special 
Decree of the Throne, began to pour into the city with 
their field and machine guns and an exhaustless supply 
of the latest improved magazine rifles. And last, Sam 
Wang, who had with difficulty kept his Boxer hounds in 
the northern quarters of the city, now loosed them on the 
legations. 

Mahlee had not been back in the palace an hour, be- 
fore she heard, with a sudden return of her sick faint- 
ness, the opening thunders of the fusillade. She was 
told by one of the Imperial eunuchs, a tall fellow named 
Wu, who had been sent to her with a basket of rare 
fruit, and the compliments of the old Empress, that dur- 
ing her absence another Council had been held in which 
the Emperor, much disturbed by the news of Baron Von 
Ketteler’s murder, had made a second pitiful plea for 
delay before embarking upon the ruinous policy of war. 
But he had been again overruled by the Dowager and 
Prince Tuan, father of the Heir Apparent and Presi- 
dent of the Tsung Li Yamen, who had treated the poor 
Son of Heaven with such stinging contempt that he had 

244 


THE GREAT SWORD 


245 


left the hall weeping. Immediately following this, Jnng 
Lu’s soldiers, waiting outside the northern walls of the 
city, had been ordered into Peking. 

Mahlee thought that she detected in Wu’s face as he 
told this news, a secret relish only partially hidden by 
his grave manner. Indeed, the fact of his daring to 
relate the incident of the Council chamber at all, she felt 
to be significant; among the several thousand eunuchs 
in the palace there might be not a few who were watch- 
ing with inward delight this edifying spectacle of the 
“Sacred Persons’^ at odds! 

Certainly in the wild orgie of looting and murder 
which immediately followed the entrance of these di- 
verse and ill-governed troops into the capital, the worst 
fears of the Emperor gave promise of being speedily re- 
alised. 'Judging from the accounts which came pouring 
into the palace at every hour during the next few days, 
Peking had become a veritable Bedlam. The Kansu sol- 
diery, a rabble of ill-favoured * ruffians, wandered un- 
checked about the city, not hesitating to pillage even the 
homes of officials of the highest grade; and the troops 
of J ung Lu were in no way behind them in such exploits. 
Every one who wore the red sash and head cloth of the 
I Ho Ch’uan appeared to hold a high licence to kill, 
burn, and loot ad lihitum. Many of the very mandarins 
who had cried out so lustily for war had their palaces 
completely denuded of everything portable, and those 
who made the least resistance were summarily dispatched, 
until it was said, that the streets of Peking, like those 
of Paris under the Commune, ran with blood. 

Mahlee listened to these stories with a half cynical 
indifference. What did she care about the fate of man- 
darins ’ bric-a-brac or even of mandarins’ heads! They 
had brought upon themselves their own punishment, and 
it was almost an alleviation to her own peculiar misery 
to hear of these would-be-trappers who had been caught 
in their own snares. 


246 


THE RED LANTERN 


But what of the legations ? That was not a matter to 
leave her untouched! She learned that the immense 
compounds of the different embassies, eight of which 
were situated on Legation Street running parallel to the 
great Tartar Wall, had been thrown into one great area 
with the British Legation, standing somewhat back of 
the others and sheltered by them, for its heart ; and that 
by almost superhuman exertion on the part of the be- 
sieged, the whole region had been strongly barricaded 
and w’as in a fair way to hold out for several weeks. 

For several weeks! And then what? The girl shud- 
dered with wretchedness, but would not allow herself to 
think. That moral paralysis which had come upon her 
as she watched the procession of missionaries and 
Chinese Christians still held her in its grip. But when 
rumours of a different sort began to fill the palace, — 
when it became bandied about that an army of foreign- 
ers was advancing from the Taku Ports for the relief of 
the besieged — not the Seymour Expedition which had 
been forced to return — but a far vaster assembly repre- 
senting all the great World Powers, she felt her heart 
suddenly lift itself in a dumb agonised prayer that they 
might arrive in time. 

On the third day after her street adventures, the 
eunuch Wu came again to the Rotunda to conduct “The 
Goddess” into the presence of his Imperial mistress. 
She followed him through some great gateways piercing 
the vermilion-coloured walls, and across several large 
avenues and quadrangles before entering at last the 
courtyard of the Dowager/s palace. She had never 
been here before, and was struck with the old-world 
beauty of the place. The court was spacious, yet not 
so vast as to destroy the sense of seclusion, — a kind of 
large intimacy of silence which was less disturbed than 
augmented by the soft moaning of doves settled, one 


THE GREAT SWORD 


247 


knew not precisely where, in the branches of ancient 
trees and the eaves of the great sloping yellow roofs. 
Mahlee was conscious of passing by priceless porcelains 
and bronzes, — courtyard ornaments in the shape of 
huge urns and incense burners, crouching lions, and the 
Imperial dragon and phoenix, all bathed in summer sun- 
light. 

Then at Wu’s touch, immense folding doors slid back 
on their hinges, and the girl found herself in the Throne 
Room of the Empress Dowager. She paused with an 
exclamation of awe. Her first sensation was that of 
being in the interior of a colossal jewel in which all de- 
tail was lost in a subdued glow of colour. It was scarcely 
past noonday, and the light fell in intersecting shafts 
through high coloured windows set below a great and 
gorgeous dome. But this radiance left almost entirely 
untouched the recesses of the room which remained in 
obscurity and threw out on the air a hostile dampness 
exuded from the black marble floor and the blood-col- 
oured walls. 

The girl, touched by the chill, shivered as she went 
through the hall after the eunuch. She had just time to 
make out a great Double-Dragon throne at one side of 
the room similar to that used by the Empress in the 
Council chamber, before Wu, previous to withdrawing, 
lifted the padded satin portieres in front of an interior 
door, and Mahlee passed into the “Sitting Room” of the 
Dowager. 

The elegant old woman, who seemed at first glance to 
be alone, advanced with a smile to meet her guest, hold- 
ing out her beautiful little hands from her great silken 
sleeves in a welcome seemingly as artless as that of a 
child. As Mahlee came towards her, she was conscious 
of a strange perfume like the exhalation of unknown 
flowers. It must have been the quintessence of every- 
thing delicate and rare, yet it produced in her some 


248 


THE RED LANTERN 


indefinable repugnance not counteracted by the insinu- 
ating melody of the Empress’ voice and the velvet soft- 
ness of her tiny hand as it fell upon her own. 

“Divine Goddess, august spirit of Whar Mou Lahn, 
reincarnated, we bid you welcome to our miserable cham- 
bers,” she said, leading her gently towards a superbly 
carved divan set near the wall against a panelled frieze 
wrought in designs of mother-of-pearl. As she seated 
herself, Mahlee received an impression of almost in- 
credible refinement in the objects about her. Here was 
the innermost sanctuary of that marvellous art of China 
which she had first learned to admire as a little child in 
the squalid hut in the coffin-yard when her old grand- 
mother would open the teak-wood chest and gloat over 
her treasures. 

The room gave on to a wide verandah and was pene- 
trated with a tempered sunlight, the only portion of it 
in shadow being an alcove curtained off by embroidered 
satin hangings where the Empress indulged in a daily 
siesta. The richly carved tables, chairs and divans, the 
great porcelain bowls piled with pyramids of fruit, the 
bouquets of jade and agate flowers set under glass cases, 
the big yellow silk lantern hanging down into the centre 
of the room, adorned with characters for happiness and 
longevity, the scrolls with classic quotations, the walls of 
carved teak-wood with their mother-of-pearl frieze, the 
floor, the ceiling — all these things suggested an infinitely 
patient and minute labour of cunning hands prodigal of 
their best skill, so that to borrow an old Persian phrase, 
this room alone might well represent “one day’s cost of 
the world.” And as a last touch to all this beautiful 
artifice there had been added the natural grace of flowers, 
— flowers such as Mahlee had never seen or even imag- 
ined, appearing rather like the escaped souls of flowers 
than real ones, so delicate were their forms, colours and 
scents, so exquisite their languorous poses. 

Mahlee had just time to take in these things with a 


THE GREAT SWORD 


249 


glance, and to reflect that the beautiful old Empress, 
clad from neck to heel in priceless silks and wearing 
jewels worth the yearly revenue of several provinces, 
was surely the fitting genius of such a place, when, at a 
word from the latter, a tall gaunt person in a neutral- 
coloured tunic approached from his position beside a 
small Buddhist shrine at the further side of the room. 
She recognised him immediately as Li Lien Ying, the 
‘‘Sham Eunuch,” who had been in the service of the 
Empress since boyhood and who was now head of the 
whole great hierarchy of palace attendants. Fabulous 
stories, she knew, were rife about this favourite and in- 
timate of her Majesty. Popularly known in Peking as 
“Cobbler Li, the Squeezer,” because of his father’s 
alleged trade and his own avaricious propensities, he had 
for many years been in charge of the Dowager’s toilet 
and personal wants, and had later become her business 
manager. In this last capacity he showed prodigious 
talent, investing her money in pawn-shops and in loans 
at exorbitant rates of interest, so that by the system 
he had inaugurated millions of taels came annually into 
the palace. It was said that he owned half the pawn- 
shops and banks in Peking, and that there was scarcely 
an official in the Empire wdio had not submitted to being 
“squeezed” by him as a preliminary step to gaining the 
ear of the Empress. Thirty million taels was believed 
to be a modest estimate of his personal wealth, and so 
great was his influence that many spoke of him as the 
real ruler of China. 

As he now came forward, Mahlee was struck by the 
malign strength of his long wrinkled face with its pon- 
derous bony jaw, protruding under lip, and eyes, sharp 
as an old hawk’s, sunk in two deep pits on either side 
of a large Roman nose. He had taken some lighted in- 
cense tapers from the ashes in a golden censer at the 
feet of the Buddha, and these he held up before her a 
moment previous to making her a profound bow. 


250 


THE RED LANTERN 


“Welcome, Goddess of the Red Lantern Light, des- 
tined saviour of our country,’’ he said in a voice of such 
singular sweetness, and with an enunciation so pure, that 
she wondered how a being of such uncompromising aspect 
could possess so musical an organ of speech. 

Yet she felt in the music a concealed irony, albeit in- 
dulgent rather than ill-humoured, as if he would say: 
“I have spent my life in mummeries to please this old 
Dame. Let me carry this one through, also, with good 
grace. ’ ’ 

At a second nod from the Empress, he opened a san- 
dal-wood chest and took out a splendid crimson tunic 
embroidered in gold with the battle of the Chimseras, 
a pair of high-soled Manchu shoes of red satin studded 
with gems, and a head-dress adorned with a magnificent 
pearl and ruby of twin size. As he lifted this gorgeous 
apparel, it caught the sunlight and threw out such a 
dazzling brightness, that Mahlee uttered a little cry of 
astonishment. 

The old Empress, hearing it, clapped her hands like a 
delighted child. 

“They are all for you!” she exclaimed. “Your re- 
galia of war to wear, when, like the heroic Whar Mou 
Lahn of old, you go out to battle with the enemy. Con- 
descend, 0 Glorious Goddess, to be adorned as becometh 
your divinity.” 

Mahlee stepped forward, her heart swelling with a 
strange pride which even then was half ironical. How 
sumptuously was her old dream being fulfilled! For- 
sooth, a “great with Imperial hands to wait 

upon her! For when the eunuch Li Lien Ying had 
clothed the girl in the glittering tunic and shoes, the 
Dowager, herself, fastened the jewelled head-dress above 
her brow over her heavy black braids. Yet her Majesty ’s 
voice was not without a touch of condescension, suit- 
able to the “Old Buddha” equipping a minor goddess. 

“This,” she said, touching the pearl, “is the Flaming 


THE GREAT SWORD 


251 


Pearl of our Dynasty, eternal quest of the Dragon, sym- 
bol of the unattainable. I present it to you now, to 
quicken your zeal in the interests of our country. And 
this,^^ she continued, indicating the ruby, “I have se- 
lected as a fitting emblem for the Red Lantern Light 
Society of which you are the divine patroness.’^ 

Mahlee bowed gravely in acknowledgment of these 
gifts, and the Empress stepped back to admire their ef- 
fect. Her black eyes sparkled with complete satisfac- 
tion. 

* ‘ The moon is obscured, flowers are put to shame. The 
fish sink dazzled to the bottom of the river,’’ she mur- 
mured in ecstasy. Then turning again to Li Lien Ying : 
‘‘Go,” she said, “ask the ladies to come in, and also 
bring something to eat and drink.” 

In a few minutes the room was filled with the court 
ladies dressed in soft gaudy silks, led by the young 
Empress, Ye-Ho-Na-Lah, and the “secondary wife” of 
the Emperor. The former was a grave-looking patrician 
with a face as narrow and sallow as her Imperial hus- 
band’s and something touchingly sad in her dark oblique 
eyes. As she entered, she bowed with gentle dignity 
towards the figure upon the divan, and then immediately 
took a place in the back of the room. The “secondary 
wife,” a good-natured young person, who had once had 
the reputation of being extremely beautiful, but was 
now grown very stout, fixed full-orbed childish eyes of 
wonder upon the reincarnated Heroine, and smiled with 
a naive, but somewhat timid pleasure. Indeed, in spite 
of Mahlee ’s courteous replies to their salutations, all the 
ladies appeared a little over-awed, and it was only when 
the old Dowager bade them set before the great Whar 
Mou Lahn food and drink that they quite recovered their 
equanimity. They then broke out into smiles and pretty 
flattering remarks upon the Heroine’s marvellous beauty ; 
while two of them placed a small red lacquered table be- 
fore the divan, and the others came with exotic sweet- 


252 


THE RED LANTERN 


meats and preserves, dishes of sharks’ fins, birds’ nests, 
a stew of hind’s nerves, and a salad of fiag-fiowers. But 
the Heroine had scarcely tasted of this repast when Li 
Lien Ying, who had not returned with the ladies, entered 
brusquely. 

‘ ‘ The Hanlin Academy is on fire, ’ ’ he said with an odd 
intonation, addressing the Empress Dowager. 

The announcement was the signal for the utmost dis- 
may. The old Empress turned white as a sheet and 
grasped the eunuch’s arm roughly. 

‘‘My Imperial Academy!” she exclaimed. “Who has 
done this evil deed!” 

“The noble patriots of the I Ho Ch’uan,” he an- 
swered, not without a touch of irony. “As the build- 
ings of the Hanlin stand but a little way north of the 
British legation, they no doubt set fire to them with 
the hope of catching the foreign devils. Already the 
library is in flames.” 

The Dowager burst into tears. “The library!” she 
cried. ‘ ‘ All those great works of antiquity gone ! Alas ! 
alas ! this is too great a calamity. Could they not have 
used other means to catch the foreigners without sacri- 
ficing the most valuable books in China ? ” 

She wept for several minutes, while her ladies pressed 
about her with consoling words. Mahlee summoned with 
a glance the eunuch to her side. 

“Are the foreign embassies likely to catch fire?” she 
asked him in a low, quick voice. 

He looked at her curiously. 

“They are in great danger; the wind is blowing the 
flames towards them.” 

The words were complacent, but they brought the 
Heroine to her feet. Her face had gone quite pale and 
her hands met convulsively. 

‘ ‘ I will go out and see ! ” she said. 

The Dowager also arose, and brushing away the tears 
energetically from her eyes, cried : 


THE GREAT SWORD 


253 


“Yes, let us all go and see. ‘When the feathers of 
a phcenix are united to the liver of a chicken, it is hard 
to accomplish results.’ I will therefore weep no longer. 
After all, the Public Harmony Braves have done wisely. 
Even our venerable Academy is not too great a price to 
pay for destroying the hateful foreigners. We will go 
and see them bum.” 

There was a cruel ring in her voice which maddened 
Mahlee, but she was forced to hold her peace. 

Even from the Dowager’s courtyard the sky looked 
red; but at the eunuch’s suggestion, they all went to the 
esplanade of the Rotunda palace for a better view. 
Here the fire appeared like a magnificent holocaust. In- 
cendiaries of varying magnitudes had occurred ever since 
the entrance of the Boxers, the greatest of which had 
been the burning of a large portion of the Chinese City 
with one of the enormous lou or square towers of the 
Ch’ien gate, but the present blaze, as Mahlee could see, 
was closer than any previous one to the legations. And 
as the eunuch had said, the wind was blowing the fiames 
directly toward the foreign quarter. 

At the spectacle, the girl’s heart again sent out its 
dumb agonised cry. 

But the old Dowager, at her side, was exultant. 

“We have them now, 0 great Whar Mou Lahn!” she 
cried. “See those high tongues of flame. They will 
devour them soon; they can not escape! Yes, yes, they 
are doomed 1 It is worth my Academy I ’ ’ 

In their gorgeous tunics and headdresses, surrounded 
by the court ladies, the pair looked like two queens of 
some fabulous era, the one old and inexorable, filled with 
a transport of vindictive joy; the other young and 
beautiful, with a face stricken by a wordless terror and 
grief. 

The “Sham Eunuch” watched them with his sunken 
eyes of an old hawk, and smiled curiously to himself. 

Then the miracle happened : the wind suddenly shifted, 


254 


THE KED LANTERN 


and the flames from the Imperial Academy were blown 
away from the legation quarter. 

When she saw this, the old Empress began to weep 
again with exasperation. 

^‘My ancient academy gone, and all to no purpose!” 
she cried. ‘‘I shall certainly have those wicked incen- 
diaries, who set fire to it, beheaded.” 

But the face of the younger watcher had suddenly 
grown calm. And when she took leave of the old Em- 
press, a little smile, half cynical, half triumphant, played 
about her lips. 


XXI 


S Mahlee entered her bed-chamber in the palace of 



the Rotunda, her little handmaid Tsi Chu ap- 
proached her with a distressed face. 

‘ ‘ 0 honourable Goddess, ’ ^ she said, bowing low, ‘ ‘ that 
old woman you brought home three days ago, is sick and 
keeps crying for you. Will you go to see her?’’ 

Mahlee at once consented, and after changing her bril- 
liant clothes for some less conspicuous, was led by the 
young girl to the quarter occupied by the tiring-women, 
where in a small room somewhat apart from the others, 
Huang-ma lay groaning upon a hang. 

The old crone raised herself on her elbow as her mis- 
tress entered, and turned upon her bleary suspicious 
eyes. For although she had been calling for Mahlee with 
querulous insistance, she was greatly confused by the 
latter’s new state. In her dim brain such sudden trans- 
fer to the Imperial abode smacked strongly of magic, so 
that at sight of the girl, she began a nervous fumbling 
in her bosom for an amulet she had hidden there as a 
charm against the Evil Eye. Mahlee ’s familiar greet- 
ing, however, quickly dissipated her alarm; yet as soon 
as Tsi Chu had withdrawn, the old woman burst into 
tears. 

am but an old-age peach dropped into flour-soup, — 
a good-for-nothing egg,” she cried. ‘‘Alas! that I was 
ever born.” 

Mahlee sat down by her side. 

“What has brought on these evil vapours, Huang- 
ma?” she asked kindly. 

“What has brought them on?” the other ‘echoed with 


255 


256 


THE KED LANTERN 


peevish ill humour. '‘Am I not then a sheep plunging 
through a thicket where advance and retreat are alike 
impossible ? First I deny our old gods to kowtow before 
the foreigners’ Gesu; then, because that child of a 
monkey, Sam Wang, cures my worthless eyes, I give up, 
also, that good and honourable doctrine, and knock my 
head again before the idols. And, now, where am I? 
The Christians’ God will not save me, for I denied Him 
openly before the Boxers, and our own gods, previously 
insulted, will have none of me either. It would have 
been far better if I had never taken up with the for- 
eigners in the beginning.” At the thought of her spir- 
itual dilemma, the tears streamed down her miserable 
old face. 

Mahlee was silent. She felt a sincere pity, but had 
little comfort to offer. ^ ‘ A sheep in a thicket ! ’ ’ was 
not that exactly her own plight ? She, who had dreamed 
of being the Jeanne d’Arc of China, what was she really 
but the insufficiently motived heroine of a bad melo- 
drama with ambiguity for her device? Even a “Sham 
Eunuch” could see the fraud that she was! 

As if to give emphasis to her bitter reflections, an un- 
usually savage burst of Chinese musketry, followed by 
the ominous booming of cannon attacking the legations, 
made her tremble with acute misery ; then, in the silence 
which ensued, her trembling suddenly turned into a 
violent start at the sound of Huang-ma’s voice uttering 
an English name. 

“Seer Pheelip Sackville,” — the lengthened foreign 
vowels made a curious effect in the midst of the old 
woman’s rambling Chinese — “Seer Pheelip Sackville 
was the first foreigner I ever saw, and that was more 
than twenty years ago when my husband kept the coal- 
yard next the coffin-shop of Yang-Ling, beyond the East- 
ern market place.” 

After her first start of surprise, some instinct follow- 
ing almost instantly upon it, kept Mahlee still. Her 


THE GREAT SWORD 


257 


eyes merely narrowed to two fine lines of azure between 
their heavy oval lids as she watched Huang-ma ’s face. 

^ ‘ Twenty years ago ! ’ ’ continued the old woman, ‘ ‘ and 
I knew then that no good would come of mixing with the 
foreigners. But my neighbour, Madame Ling, was 
tempted by the money; and small wonder, for every- 
body said that seventy taels was a very good price for 
the girl, even taking into account her great beauty.’^ 

“What girl?^^ Mahlee was now leaning forward to- 
wards the kang, and the words broke from her throat 
with harsh sharpness. 

“Madame Ling’s daughter, to be sure,” answered the 
old crone, too absorbed in her own reminiscences to no- 
tice her listener’s face. “Her youngest daughter, — 
Yueh Woa, — Moon Beautiful of her old age — she used 
to call her, but for all that, she gave her up to the for- 
eign mandarin after driving a sharp enough bargain. 
He took her away with him somewhere, but only kept 
her seven months. A broken toy is soon thrown aside. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Thrown aside ? ’ ’ Mahlee echoed, aghast. 

“Yes, thrown aside.” The old woman interrupted 
herself here by a groan, but in a moment continued 
with her listener’s contracted gaze still upon her face. 

“At first when she asked me to come in as midwife 
for her daughter, I refused, saying that a nose with 
three nostrils expels too much air, by which I signified 
that I did not wish to be a person who meddled with 
affairs which did not concern her. But when Madame 
Ling wept and besought me, I weakly yielded. I saw 
the foreign mandarin once after Yueh Woa was dead, for 
a fever set in and my skill was not sufficient to save her. 
He looked at the baby, and when he was told that it 
was a girl, he commanded Madame Ling with a fierce air 
never to bind its feet. Then he went out, leaving six 
hundred taels on the table.” 

Mahlee had remained rigid during this recital; but 
now her lips framed themselves into a harsh whisper. 

17 


258 


THE RED LANTERN 


“You are sure of the name, Huang-ma?’’ 

“What nameT’ asked the old woman fretfully; she 
had begun to groan again. 

“The name of the foreign mandarin — the lover of 
Yueh Woa,” Mahlee said with the same hoarse articula- 
tion. 

“Yes, Seer Pheelip Sackville,” Huang-ma repeated, 
“lam absolutely sure. Dearly enough did I pay for my 
knowledge, too, for Madame Ling soon began to act 
like a corpse come to life because of it, — threatened to 
pull out my tongue, and finally forced my husband and 
me to leave the neighbourhood. After that everything 
went like ‘pulling the elbow’; my husband died of 
cholera, — all my children proved ungrateful. It was 
only the missionaries who were kind to me. Yet now I 
am worse off than if I had never known them, for I have 
denied their Gesu and must perish in my sins.” 

She began to cry again miserably, then suddenly 
clenched her old fist and shook it in the air. 

“It’s all the fault of that child of a monkey, Sam 
Wang,” she cried. “But I say again as I have said be- 
fore ; a fish sports in the kettle, but his life will not be 
long.” 

Mahlee rose; her old schooling in self-control was 
serving her now. She betrayed no emotion; she merely 
tempered the light, straightened the quilts on the hang, 
and promised to mix Huang-ma some medicine and send 
in one of the tiring-women to wait upon her. 

Once alone in her great palace bed-chamber, the girl 
threw back her head in a superb gesture. 

“Sir Philip Sackville, my father! Blanche Sackville, 
my sister!” she cried with an indescribable accent of 
pride, defiance, and scorn. 

Then suddenly she became conscious again of the fierce 
Chinese cannon fire which jarred the air in a series of 
sharp concussions. She bent forward listening. And as 
she listened, a new and singular pallor, rising as it 


THE GREAT SWORD 


259 


seemed from the hidden recesses of her heart, slowly con- 
quered her face. Her father, her sister, Andrew Han- 
del, — all these whom she might have loved best in life, 
w^ere shut into that death-trap ! At this moment she 
felt no jealousy. She forgot the intolerable pain which 
had visited her at the thought that Andrew and Blanche 
were together. Now something more elemental was 
stirring within her, — the call of her blood to its own ! 
An immense yearning, more poignant, more passionate 
than all else she had ever experienced, came upon her. 
This was the desire to look upon her father’s face. 


XXII 


R umours of the approaching Allies increased. It 
was said that thirty thousand foreign troops from 
Taku had already arrived at Tientsin, only eighty miles 
away, had relieved the situation there (for that city, 
itself, had been in a state of siege), and were now pre- 
paring for an immediate advance upon the capital. In 
fact, the news of the rescue of the foreign community 
at Tientsin had reached the Empress Dowager on the 
very day when she had watched the burning of her be- 
loved Academy, and had greatly augmented her ill hu- 
mour. Since then. Councils had multiplied; alarm had 
reached a height; and the upshot had been that on the 
14th of July the Tsung Li Yamen had sent a dispatch to 
the legations, urging all the foreign ambassadors, their 
families, and their staffs to avail themselves of its prof- 
fered escort of trustworthy officers giving “close and 
strict protection,” to repair immediately to the Yamen, 
where they should “temporarily reside pending future 
arrangements for their return home, in order to preserve 
friendly relations from beginning to end. ’ ’ 

The truth is that even the most rabid of the Manchu 
officials had begun to realise that if a general massacre 
of foreign Ministers were permitted, China would be 
forced to expiate the deed with Imperial blood. But the 
dispatch made no reference whatever to the missionaries 
and the two thousand and more native Christians within 
the foreign barricades, of whose very existence, it might 
be inferred, the Chinese government was in total igno- 
rance. 

The reply to this extraordinary invitation came 
quickly and was in the following sense: The Ministers 

260 


THE GREAT SWORD 


261 


see no reason for removing to the Tsung Li Yamen. If 
it is really desired to open negotiations, a trustworthy 
messenger should be sent with a white flag. 

More councils followed, fresh dispatches were sent; 
news came that the great General Nieh, a favourite of 
the Empress, had committed suicide in consequence of a 
terrible defeat which he had sustained in fighting the for- 
eigners between Tientsin and Taku. The old Dowager 
wept, and sent for the reincarnated Whar Mou Lahn. 
Her Majesty showed a face haggard, but still sufficiently 
spirited even in the midst of her lamentations. 

“The foreign devils are getting the better o# us at 
every point,” she cried out peevishly, as if it were the 
Heroine’s fault. “My good General Nieh has killed 
himself, and now half Europe is advancing upon us 
with hideous yells of triumph and unimaginable cruel- 
ties. Even here in Peking the besieged manage to kill 
hundreds of our men, and not fewer among the invulner- 
able Boxers than the others. What, pray, are we to do 
now ? ’ ’ 

The girl, whose heart was beating fast with a secret 
hope of her own, gave council in a decided voice. 

“Declare a truce immediately, 0 Great Ancestress,” 
she said. “Select a trustworthy messenger as the for- 
eigners themselves have suggested — some one will vol- 
unteer! — and send him with a white flag to their lines. 
This will, at least, give us time for further councils, and 
will also enable our soldiers to examine the enemies’ 
fortifications, which, in case of a renewal of the fight, 
will prove a great advantage. ’ ’ 

As the Heroine’s advice was in exact accord with the 
voice of the whole Tsung Li Yamen, and of the Em- 
peror (though the latter counted but little), the Em- 
press Dowager was fain to accept it. True, she wanted 
to know sharply enough what so many “invulnerable” 
Boxers, with a Goddess, a Great Fairy, and Eight Mil- 
lion Spirit Soldiers to assist them, could be about to find 


262 


THE RED LANTERN 


so much trouble in ridding the country of a few thou- 
sand foreign devils and their Ministers. But she did 
not press the question when she was told that if too much 
haste were shown in dispatching the Ministers her own 
skin would be in danger. That reflection put a new 
note of prudence into her voice and made her agree to 
the armistice. 

Li Lien Ying, her Sham Eunuch, who stood by, turned 
aside once to smile. 

The day after this decision was made, the Tsung Li 
Yamen received a cipher telegram in the code of the 
State ^Department of Washington, addressed to the Amer- 
ican Minister. This dispatch, though unintelligible to 
the Manchu and Chinese officials, caused them no little 
satisfaction, as its safe delivery would furnish a reason- 
able pretext for the truce now desired by all. Indeed, 
by this time, the only Mandarin in the court circle who, 
by some common instinct of the others, had been left in 
the dark as to the intended armistice, was the “Illus- 
trious Patriot,’^ Ching Lin, whose constant occupation, 
at the actual scene of strife had kept him for many days 
from the palace. 


XXIII 


T owards five o^clock in the afternoon of the 16th 
of July, an unusual commotion became manifest 
outside the eastern barricades of the foreign legations. 
The Patriot, Ching Lin, in his habiliments of Boxer 
chief, riding upon his big mule with scarlet trappings, 
was superintending the removal of one of the cannon to 
a place at some distance further north. His commands, 
given in a tongue unknown to the common soldiery, were 
addressed to two lieutenants, who in turn passed them 
on in Chinese to their subordinates. 

‘‘Unhook it from the fore-carriage, Sing, you big 
devil, and you, Chung, tie a second rope about its nozzle. 
There ! — haul slowly — is it loose ? Now run ! ’ ’ 

In a moment the big iron monster was moving at a 
lively trot between two rows of soldiers running in uni- 
son. The commander on the black mule drew his huge 
hand across his mouth, rubbing away the sweat and 
dust. He appeared well satisfied. 

“It’s been a good day’s work,” he remarked to Sing, 
who had remained behind. “They’re burying two men 
over in there this minute” — he indicated the foreign 
ramparts — “to whom I had the pleasure of giving their 
dose of lead, and one of them is no other than the Brit- 
ish captain who has given us so much trouble for the 
last fortnight. He’ll make a big hole in their force.” 

The young giant’s answering grin was a trifle uneasy. 
For a moment he was silent, then burst out impulsively : 
“Sam, don’t you ever sicken — have any compunctions 
— in all this business ? ’ ’ 

He made a sweeping gesture with his arm, embracing 
the scene before them. In truth, it was worthy of the 

263 


264 


THE RED LANTERN 


brush of a Verestchagin. On one side, extended the grim 
line of the old Tartar Wall which had been taken by 
the foreigners only after a fierce struggle, but which 
now formed their extreme southern defence. Built high 
and massive by the great conquerer Kublai Khan, it 
had the air of dominating its surroundings with a savage 
and haughty barbarism. Around from it, about a great 
irregular circle enclosing the legations, the fighting had 
been persistent. The Chinese barricades were pushed up 
as close as possible to those of their enemy and the zone 
between now showed an unsightly desolation. Broken 
firearms and empty cartridge shells by the thousands 
mingled with the bricks and woodwork of ruined native 
houses; while from hideous evil-smelling rags, black 
with flies, protruded skulls and bones and pieces of de- 
caying flesh, representing all that was left of scores of 
the ^‘invulnerable” Boxers who had approached too 
close to the foreigners^ defence-fire. Among this vile 
debris, pariah dogs wandered at will, sniffing continu- 
ously. 

But if the Patriot were moved by this spectacle it 
was scarcely to remorse. The scowl that he turned on 
his companion was not good to see. 

“To Hell with your compunctions, you time-serving 
lout.” 

The big fellow shrank at the brutality of the tone. 
If the exigencies of war had united the “Devil’s Trip- 
lets” in Devil’s work, it was evident that one of them 
had not forgotten that he had a score to settle against 
the other two. Next moment both men were pricking 
their ears in amazement at the sudden hoarse blare of a 
trumpet — a trumpet of truce ! 

At the sound of it, the rifle-fire and cannonading, 
which up to this time had been constant, gradually fell 
off ; soldiers who a moment before had been mingled in 
the confusion of the fight, collected in groups, and then 
in whole divisions, making separate masses of colour 


THE GREAT SWORD 


265 


against the grey bulwarks. This movement, which was 
almost mechanical, took but a few minutes, and at the 
end of it, a strange silence filled with a mutual curiosity 
and distrust, fell upon the contended region. 

Motionless upon his big black mule, the Patriot’s first 
expression had been one of astonished perplexity, which 
quickly gave place to anger so entreme that the visage 
of Kwan-ti, the war-god, would at that moment have 
appeared mild by comparison. Then suddenly Sing 
heard him give a great gasp, followed by a hard heaving 
of his enormous chest. 

‘ ‘ She ! ’ ’ The word came out like the sharp hiss of a 
projected bullet. 

Sing turned. He saw a slight figure dressed in the 
blue cotton garments of a common Chinese boy advance 
between the parted soldiery, waving a white fiag. Sing 
also recognised that face ! As the boy came on, steadily, 
unhesitatingly, preceded by the loud trumpeteer of 
truce, heads began to appear above the foreign barri- 
cades, handkerchiefs were waved in response to the fiag, 
even faint hurrahs could be heard. The lad continued 
to the north and west until he had reached the stone 
bridge at the upper end of the Imperial Canal, which, 
running at right angles to Legation Street, was included 
in its lower length within the foreign area. Here he 
took his stand, still waving the fiag. Presently, a second 
figure was perceived approaching the bridge from the 
direction of the British legation. 

This person was also waving something white. In 
another moment the two figures, now faint in the dis- 
tance, had met and disappeared together within the 
foreign lines. 

The stillness, which had held the Chinese soldiery dur- 
ing the boy ’s advance, suddenly broke. There were cries 
of excitement; many even burst out in ejaculations of 
joy and relief at the thought that the war was ended. 
Sing looked back to the spot where his chief had been a 


266 


THE RED LANTERN 


moment before. He was no longer there; the big black 
mule was carrying him at a gallop towards the stone 
bridge over which the boy had passed. Then the animal 
suddenly drew up to a standstill on the bridge and its 
rider remained outlined against the sky like a guard in 
waiting. Sing knew that the “Illustrious Patriot” was 
watching for the reappearance of the messenger of truce. 


XXIV 


W ITHIN a few yards of the British Legation, the 
boy, following the Chinese Christian who had met 
him, drew a strip of cloth from a pocket and wrapped it 
about his head in such a fashion as to conceal all of his 
face save his eyes. Then he entered with his companion' 
through the gate, opened cautiously to admit them. In 
another moment, an eager crowd of men, women, and 
children were pressing around him. 

He delivered the cipher telegram from Washington, 
which proved scarcely less meaningless here than at the 
Tsung Li Yamen; what held far more interest for the 
besieged was the intelligence personally conveyed, that 
their Imperial Majesties, as well as both Manchu and 
Chinese officials, desired an armistice to see whether 
peaceful relations could not be again established.” 

The boy’s message was received with varying comment 
and not without suspicion. There was, however, nothing 
of the latter quality in the tones of one pretty plump 
little woman whose voice rose above the others. 

‘ ‘ Oh ! how perfectly sweet of them ! Of course we ’ll 
consent. The babies will have all the milk they want 
again, and we’ll have some human food ourselves.” 

Human food ! you little cannibal! Are you going to 
devour the Boxers?” 

If Miss McGinnis’ face was a trifle less round and 
rosy than before the siege, it did not fail to break into 
dimples at Dr. Eliza’s question. 

“It would just serve them right!” she retorted, “and 
they couldn’t be much worse than pony meat. . . . 

I wonder why the boy keeps his face wrapped up. Per- 
haps he has the toothache, poor thing! Oh, here ’re the 

267 


268 


THE RED LANTERN 


Parmelees and Miss Dom! Isn’t it just great news, my 
good friends? But where’s Mr. Handel?” 

At this instant, the messenger of truce turned squarely 
about and looked at the missionaries. 

‘ ‘ Mr. Handel was put into the hospital last night with 
orders to stay flat on his back for a week,” Mr. Parmelee 
replied briskly. 

The ladies looked distressed. 

‘‘Is he wounded?” 

“Not lately. But he’s been exerting himself out of 
all proportion to his strength, and the old wound he 
got in Shantung is giving him trouble.” 

“He’s starving!” Dr. Kennedy cried. “There’s 
nothing else in the world the matter with him. He’ll 
scarcely eat for fear the supply will run short for the 
others. He’s acted that way from the first day. But 
now there’s an armistice, perhaps we can manage to get 
fresh eggs and fruit for him. That ’s all he needs. ’ ’ 

At the doctor’s last words, the young messenger drew 
a sigh which seemed to express some inward relief. 
Soon the crowd about him began to melt away, sepa- 
rating into little groups to discuss the new situation. 
Left to himself, his eyes, visible between a slit of the 
cloth which otherwise completely enveloped his head, 
moved about among the foreigners with a restless search- 
ing insistence. He saw that many of them looked thin 
and haggard, the young children, especially, who had 
been deprived of proper food. It was clear, too, that the 
present news had not brought unalloyed hope. The le- 
gation ambassadors, with a deep look of responsibility 
graven on their faces, talked among themselves, while 
the other men drew about them as soldiers about their 
chiefs. The women and children made separate clus- 
ters. One and all, down to the smallest child, wore the 
same air of determination to face bravely whatever 
hardships or dangers the future might present. 

Suddenly the boy’s eyes, which had not ceased their 


THE GREAT SWORD 


269 


quest, flashed as they fell upon a fair-haired English 
girl who had turned to follow a tall middle-aged man. 
In a few leaps he had crossed the distance between them. 

^‘Miss Sackville!’^ 

As she turned at the shock of the voice, he let the 
cloth fall from his face, so that, for a second, it was 
quite uncovered. 

‘^Mahlee!” she gasped. 

‘‘Yes, Mahlee!”.the other echoed. “It is I. I have 
something to say to you and to your father. ’ ’ 

The Eurasian waited a moment to let the English 
girl recover herself, meanwhile drawing the cloth again 
over her head. But Blanche Sackville looked bewildered 
and a little frightened. 

“To us alone?” 

“Alone, and immediately.” There was something at 
once eager and imperious in the tone which brooked no 
refusal. 

“I will speak to my father,” Miss Sackville replied 
hastily. “Wait there in that room.” She pointed out 
a lobby in one of the buildings of the legation com- 
pound. 

Mahlee crossed over to it and stood waiting within 
the threshold. The lobby was evidently used for a bar- 
rack-room. Muskets were stacked in a corner, while 
two or three mattresses with rough soldiers’ blankets oc- 
cupied a portion of the floor space. From the door, she 
saw Blanche Sackville overtake her father. He had 
joined the group around the ambassadors and was en- 
gaging one of them in conversation, so that he had not 
missed his daughter. Mahlee followed the movements 
of the young girl as she drew him away from the group, 
and spoke to him with rapid gesticulations. Even at 
the distance she was, the Eurasian heard her own name 
pronounced and detected the sharp start that Sir Philip 
Sackville gave as he involuntarily echoed it. She saw 
him turn, advance a little hesitatingly, then looking 


270 


THE RED LANTERN 


doubtfully at his daughter, hesitate again, as if he were 
on the point of dismissing her. But apparently he 
thought be^tter of that, for he came forward with her 
once again, yet slowly, and with a visible effort. Mahlee 
felt her heart throb violently. This man was her 
father! She could see that he was still in his prime, 
carrying his unusual height with military erectness; 
and, as he drew nearer, she observed that his features 
were very handsome, though a trifle over-sharpened. 
As he reached the door, he threw his arm about his 
daughter with an odd protecting gesture, and together 
they entered the room. 


XXV 


T he next instant Sir Philip Sackville was bending 
with a low bow towards the Eurasian as one who 
has just been presented to a great lady. And, in truth, 
no woman of title and position could have borne herself 
with a prouder air at the moment of his entrance, than 
this slender creature dressed in the poor clothes of a 
Chinese coolie, with thick black hair clinging in disor- 
dered masses about her head and neck. She returned 
his salutation with a grave bow of her own; and as he 
raised his head again their eyes met. 

Her own were opened largely in a slow intense gaze, 
as if for the moment the power of words was gone from 
her, and she must trust to her eyes alone to convey to 
him the meanings of her soul. He looked into them 
curiously, and as he looked, felt uncontrollably shaken. 
They were the eyes of his own youth ! They held some- 
thing uncompromising which said: I will have all or 
nothing. He recognised that look! But behind their 
defiant pride, he saw, too, with an inward shiver, that 
they were pleading with him — pleading for life. 

Unable to bear that great appeal, he turned away his 
head, and it was Blanche Sackville who finally broke the 
silence. She had been struck by the oddness of this 
meeting — its almost solemn note which had held her 
mute for several minutes. Now she cried in surprise : 

^‘Why, do you know each other? Do you know Mah- 
lee. Father?’’ 

Sir Philip Sackville recovered himself with a little 
start, while a glaze almost like a thin layer of ice seemed 
to form over the surface of his eyes. Yet it was with 

271 


272 


THE RED LANTERN 


difficulty that he achieved a tone of courteous indif- 
ference. 

‘ ‘ Only as you have told me of her, my daughter. But 
I am nevertheless quite at her service.’^ He turned to 
Mahlee with an effort to speak easily. ‘‘What is it you 
want, my girl?” 

‘ ‘ Justice ! ^ ' 

The word fell from her like something heavy and 
threatening. 

Sir Philip paled. 

“Justice?” he repeated with studied vagueness, and 
daring to go no further, paused on the word. 

Her lip curled a little. “Yes, — justice.” 

Blanche Sackville’s face whitened with indignation. 
“Wliat do you mean, Mahlee?” she cried. “No one is 
more just, and no one more kind than my father. ^ ’ She 
put her hand in his as if to prove her unbounded confi- 
dence. 

But the Eurasian seemed not to heed. For a moment 
she appeared to be gathering together her forces; then 
she said shortly: “I hope that may soon be proved 
after the story I have to tell him.” 

If Sir Philip inwardly winced, it was not perceptible 
to his observers. “If it is the story of your own life, 
my poor girl,” he said, suddenly deciding to take his 
bull by the horns, ‘ ‘ you may be spared anything so pain- 
ful, as I have already heard it from my daughter. The 
only question is how can we help you ? ’ ^ 

So perfectly had he by now caught the note of im- 
personal benevolence, of the cultivated man of the 
world disposed to be kind, that Mahlee was for a mo- 
ment disconcerted. She stared at him in amazement, 
then broke into a strange laugh. 

“Oh, you know it then, — in all its details?” she 
could only say weakly. 

Sir Philip nodded gravely. 

“Until your disappearance from the mission, at least. 


THE GREAT SWORD 


273 


A very touching history/^ There was the same kind- 
ness in his tone, but the ice was still in his eye. 

She saw it and shivered, but Blanche Sackville cried 
out in kindly enthusiasm: 

‘‘Yes, I told Papa everything, and you see, he wants 
to help you, and so do I. Do let us!’’ She came 
towards Mahlee extending her hands in her pretty shy 
gesture. “I worried dreadfully when I heard that you 
were lost, and I am so very glad that you thought of 
coming to us.” 

As there was no response, she continued a little nerv- 
ously. “How clever of you to devise this way of get- 
ting back to your friends, — ^with the white flag of truce ; 
it’s just like a romance. You must have had awful 
experiences, but you were quite right to come to us, to 
consider us your friends, — wasn’t she. Papa?” 

“Quite right; I shall be pleased to do what I can.” 
Something warned him not to pronounce the word mo7iey 
before this young woman, yet his tone clearly implied 
that that was the nature of the aid he stood ready to 
give. 

Mahlee ’s heavy lids had by this time lowered over 
her eyes, but her narrowed gaze was still kept upon 
her father’s face. She seemed to be absorbing its every 
line. The light from the open door fell upon the 
three, — on the chill handsome face of Sir Philip with 
its features over-sharpened and a little drawn; on the 
white loveliness of the English girl, more lily-like than 
ever after the deprivations she had endured; and on 
the tawny beauty of the Eurasian with her brooding 
watchful eyes; and in spite of the difference between 
them, their subtle resemblance was at that moment 
almost startling. As Mahlee was still silent, Blanche 
Sackville spoke again. 

‘ ‘ There, you see you have his own Word for it, 
Mahlee; but do tell us all about yourself. Where have 
you been, and how did you happen to get lost? It was 
18 


274 


THE KED LANTERN 


horrible ! The missionaries hunted everywhere. They 11 
all be so glad to see you ; and now that a truce is declared, 
there won’t be any more war, — will there? And every- 
thing will be as before. Please do stay in the legation 
and let us help you.” 

The young girl’s voice was so sincerely kind that it 
brought a ghostly hope into Mahlee’s own; yet her 
tone was of one who confers a favour rather than of one 
who begs it, as, coming to a sudden decision, she turned 
to Sir Philip. 

“You say that you know my story,” she said to him 
clearly, succinctly, “You know who and what I am, and 
you offer to help me. I accept, if you are prepared to 
help me in the only way in which you know I can be 
helped.” 

The uncompromising look in Mahlee’s eye had trans- 
lated itself into her voice. The spirit in the girl 
moved Sir Philip ’s admiration ; in truth it moved some- 
thing more profound. Had there been only himself 
to consider, he might at that instant have given her 
the acknowledgment she craved, — might even have 
taken her to his heart. But the sight of Blanche Sack- 
ville, that other piece of flesh and blood and spirit 
which was also his child and a thousand times dearer 
than this stranger, kept his voice hard. Yet it shook 
a very little as he replied in much the same words as 
before : 

“I shall be glad to do anything for you within rea- 
son.” 

‘ ‘ Of course he will, Mahlee ! ’ ’ Blanche Sackville cried 
triumphantly. “Why do you need so many assur- 
ances? My father alw^ays means what he says. And 
as for Mahlee being reasonable. Papa, naturally she 
won’t wish anything out of reason.” 

For a moment the Eurasian was silent, then slowly 
and deliberately, as one coming out of a profound revery, 
she said: 


THE GREAT SWORD 


275 


‘‘What I want is very reasonable/’ She looked 
straight at Sir Philip. He felt the blow coming and 
half turned away his head. 

“I have a father,” she continued, straightening her- 
self proudly for her supreme statement, “who is a 
foreign mandarin, — an English nobleman. I want my 
father to acknowledge me as his daughter before the 
world, and otherwise legitimise my position in it so 
that it may no longer be the ambiguous, untenable thing 
it has been. If he will do this, I shall then feel myself 
as, in truth, belonging to the white race, and will give 
up my connection with the Boxer Society to which I 
now belong.” 

As the girl ceased speaking, the air seemed to become 
surcharged with something heavy and explosive. Sir 
Philip’s high narrow forehead was drawn into a frown, 
and in his eyes was to be seen that blue glint which 
once, long ago, had proved so terrible to old Madame 
Ling in the coffin shop. But her granddaughter faced 
it now without quailing, while she waited for her an- 
swer. It did not come at once, for Blanche Sackville, 
glancing rapidly at her father’s face, and seeing its 
look of deep displeasure, spoke first. 

“Why, Mahlee!” she said gently, “I’m afraid you 
are unreasonable. How can Papa help you when you 
don’t even know the name of your father? But it’s 
awful for you to belong to the Boxer Society, and you 
must give it up.” 

The young girl’s tone showed that she was inexpress- 
ibly shocked by Mahlee ’s connection with the enemy. 
A look almost of pity such as a sophisticated elder 
sister might show for the innocence of a younger, came 
for a moment into the Eurasian’s face. She did not 
answer Blanche, but turned again to Sir Philip as if 
she had not heard her. 

“Will you do this thing for me?” She put the ques- 
tion in the same clear, deliberate voice. Her eyes were 


j 


276 


THE RED LANTERN 


on a level with his, and once more he saw their plead- 
ing — that terrible pleading for life. She had even — al- 
most as if against her will — come towards him a little, 
close enough for him to feel her warm breath on his 
face. He saw her rich strange beauty, the tenderness 
of her youth; he knew that he had but to hold out his 
hand and call her ‘‘Daughter’’ to see her cast herself 
at his feet in an ecstasy of love and gratitude. The 
angry glint in his eyes died; his voice even quavered 
with something like regret. 

“My poor girl, I cannot.” 

It might have been a sentence of doom for the hush 
it brought to the three. Blanche Sackville turned a 
terrified questioning look upon her father’s face, and 
then, struck by some indescribable expression upon it, 
suddenly went pale to the lips; at the same instant a 
shadow of something old and careworn fell over the 
young girl’s fresh beauty. For a moment she paused, 
wavering between the two; then with an almost furtive 
movement, she went over and stood by her father’s side. 

As for Mahlee, she had not moved; nor for several 
instants did her expression alter. She seemed to be 
trying to comprehend the full import of those words 
which Sir Philip had just uttered, — to grasp their sig- 
nificance for her future. But presently that redoubt- 
able change which in two previous crises of the Eu- 
rasian’s life had come upon it, began to work in it now. 
There was the same slow lifting of the heavy lids until 
not only the blue irides but also the whites of the eyes 
were baldly uncovered; and this was followed by the 
same wild backward tossing of the head until the loos- 
ened black braids undulated like snakes. For an in- 
stant her lips parted as if for speech. A torrent of 
reproach seemed to be on the point of bursting from 
them. They opened and closed several times, thus, but 
no sound came. The spectacle of this suppressed fury 
was infinitely more terrible — more sinister, — than any 


THE GREAT SWORD 


277 : 


outburst, however wild, could have been. Sir Philip 
Sackville and his daughter averted their faces. 

But at last the silence was strangely broken by a 
voice exceedingly suave and courteous bidding them 
‘^Good-day !’^ and in another moment the Eurasian 
had passed through the door and was rapidly crossing 
the court towards the great gate of the legation which 
had been left unbarred for the passage of the mes- 
senger of truce. On the street, a rider on a black mule 
galloped to meet her; as soon as he was abreast, Sam 
Wang flung himself off the animal and stretched out 
his hand to her. 

^‘Come!’’ was all he said. For a single instant she 
hesitated with that old involuntary shrinking from him. 
Then something cruel and malign flamed in her eyes, 
and she broke into a sick mad laugh. 

“My sweet lover! my husband!” she cried extending 
her hand to meet his, “Of course I will go with you. 
With whom else should I go? And when we have 
killed every foreign devil in China, we shall celebrate 
our nuptials.” 

He looked at her with a savage grin of joy. 

^ ‘ Aye ! aye ! ” he responded in his deep guttural bass, 
“So be it!” 

He lifted her into the saddle of the big mule, and 
leaping on behind her, spurred the beast into a gallop. 


XXYI 


I T was the night of the thirteenth of August. The 
brief armistice of a month ago had been utterly 
forgotten in the days of fierce and constant assault 
which had followed. And now everybody understood 
that the end was at hand. For the great Army of the 
Allies, after having suffered innumerable repulses and 
delays, was known by the Chinese to be very near Pe- 
king. So it was with the energy of despair that they 
were fighting in a last supreme maddened effort to 
destroy the Foreign Devils. 

At present it was within an hour of midnight, and 
the firing had attained its maximum pitch. The sky, 
of a dead blackness, seemed like a pall about to drop. 
All the light visible came from the earth in a vast, 
lurid, and irregular circle around the legations re- 
sembling the ring of some gigantic Necromancer. It 
might have been divined that he was at foul work from 
the venomous rapidity with which, from every point 
of the jagged circumference, jets of flame darted up- 
ward. These were met by opposing tongues of fire 
from an inner circle within the ring and together be- 
came a blaze so dazzling and vicious that the eye was 
blinded in its presence. 

Every gun of known and unknown pattern, even to 
old cannon dug up for this occasion from the bowels 
of the ancient city, vomited forth death and fury. 
Countless myriads of projectiles flew through the air 
like fiery hailstones to crash a moment later against 
the barricades with a terrifice force. The noise was 
appalling. 


278 


THE GJtEAT SWORD 


279 


For an hour this continued without abatement, but 
as midnight sounded the exhaustion of the Chinese 
became manifest. Trumpets of cease-fire suddenly 
blared out along the lines, and soldiers dropped their 
red-hot muskets to the ground. In the halt, it was 
seen that whole divisions of men had melted into ob- 
livion. The air was filled with the smell of steaming 
blood, and in the diminished light, flat yellow faces 
showed against the black fortifications contracted by 
fatigue and fear. 

Ten or fifteen minutes passed thus. A heavy dis- 
couragement took possession of the soldiery. For two 
months they had done their uttermost to lay low the 
foreign walls, but those walls still stood. Were there 
not, in very truth, devils behind them against whom 
it was useless to contend? And every moment was 
bringing a great army of new devils nearer the city. 
An ominous muttering went through the ranks. What 
had become of the Illustrious Patriot’s promises of 
divine aid? Had his boasted powers failed him at the 
crucial hour? A fellow with the embroidered mauve 
coat and blue trousers of a Kansu artillery man, loung- 
ing in a group against one of the barricades, spat con- 
temptuously upon the ground. 

“Bah! a sham Patriot! worse than Cobbler Li, the 
Sham Eunuch. They say he’s no more than the son 
of a foreign devil and a common harlot. Doubtless 
from the beginning he’s been playing us false. The 
only patriots we can trust to now are our heels.” 

He stretched out his bayonet and speared the head 
of a corpse dissevered from its body — a ghastly thing 
with dead bulging eyes and queue matted in its own 
gore. 

“This!” he said holding it up before his companions, 
“is what we’ll all look like if we stay here another 
hour. ’ ’ 


280 


THE KED LANTERN 


A sickly hue of fear spread over the yellow faces. 
‘‘True! true! the fellow speaks the truth!’’ they cried, 
“Why not flee before it is too late?” 

A clandestine movement of retreat began. Soldiers 
by twos and threes whispered to each other, and simul- 
taneously slunk away into the darkness. 

But suddenly the Patriot himself, astride his big 
mule with red trappings, came racing along the lines. 
His hair, loosened under the scarlet head-cloth of the 
Boxer chief, streamed out behind him like a coarse 
black mane. Above his waist, girt with the sash of 
the I Ho Ch’uan, his powerful chest rose and fell in 
strong exultant rhythm. And as he rode, he twirled 
with dazzling swiftness above his head, a great naked 
sword. His eyes blazed, like hot coals. 

“Up with your arms! Up with your arms!” he 
cried, “For the Goddess of the Red Lantern Light is 
here to give us victory ! ’ ’ 

Scarcely were the words out of his mouth before a 
band of red-robed girls was seen advancing wildly, 
with bodies swaying from right to left to the accom- 
paniment of a savage chant in minor key; they gestic- 
ulated, they screamed, they brandished swords and spears 
and flaming torches; some even lost their footing and 
rolled over each other in fanatical hysteria on the 
bloody battle ground. And in their midst, their Di- 
vinity no longer wore her image-like calm, but had 
become the living flgure of War. She stood erect in her 
red palanquin, clothed in a superb scarlet tunic over- 
wrought in gold with the battle of the Chimceras. In 
her magnificent head-dress, worn above the black 
braided masses of her hair, blazed two great jewels — 
the Flaming Pearl of the Dynasty, and the Ruby of 
the Red Lantern Light Society. Her skin in the flare 
of the torches gleamed like ruddy gold. In the right 
hand she held a great sword, in the left she upbore 
an enormous red lantern like a sun which sets before 


THE GREAT SWORD 


281 


a tempest. For a moment she was silhouetted in high 
relief against the grim old Tartar Wall. 

“Up! brave patriots!” she cried in a loud ringing 
voice. “Fight and be not dismayed. For the walls 
of the enemy shall not endure. To-night is victory ! ’ ’ 

In another instant she was past, whirling madly with 
her maidens around the vast, jagged circle, and shout- 
ing words of courage to all on her way. It was the 
Dance of the Witches in the Necromancer’s Ring! 

A blood-curdling cheer followed them. “The God- 
dess! The Goddess of the Red Lantern Light! Vic- 
tory is ours ! ’ ’ 

The look of fear and fatigue vanished as if by magic 
from the flat yellow faces, giving place to one^ of glee- 
ful and barbarous malice. The deserters rushed back 
to their posts, catching up their still smoking guns, 
or frantically snatching others from the corpses in their 
path ; while new swarms of men seemed to rise in 
black bunches from the ground. With horrid yells, the 
attack on the legations was renewed; the fury of the 
assault was now indescribable; for two hours Hell was 
unloosed, while the mad witches, led on by their mad 
magician, danced in the Ring. 

Then suddenly above the frightful clamour, far in 
the distance, but distinctly audible, broke forth a heavy, 
reverberating boom. It had the effect of a great, im- 
perious voice laying down its commands from the east- 
ern obscurity. Less loud than penetrating, it at once 
paralysed the demoniacal activity of the Chinese. There 
was a lull in the pandemonium. 

Boom! boom! it spoke again somewhere out of the 
eastward, and the sound, though still muffled by dis- 
tance, was immense, like the rolling in of a thousand 
breakers. 

There could be no more question! It was the great 
Army of the Allies rapidly approaching Peking. In a 
little while they would be within the gates I 


282 


THE KED LANTERN 


The paralysis which had seized the Chinese turned 
into a panic. 

^^Yang ping lai liaoT^ (the foreign soldiers have 
come!) they cried, and dropping their weapons, ran 
this time in good earnest. 

In a moment the retreat had become a stampede. 
Caught in an inextricable tangle of men and beasts 
the Goddess of the Red Lantern Light and her maidens 
were seen in the flare of their torches struggling for a 
passage. The girls screamed with shrill fear, and the 
face of their Divinity, still upborne upon her palanquin, 
wore a ghastly pallor. 

The Patriot on the big mule was separated from her 
by the crowd. 

^‘Back! back! you cowards!’’ he called savagely to 
the retreating men, ‘ ‘ Back ! I say, to your places ! ’ ’ 

For an appreciable instant his furious command had 
its effect. As if mesmerised by his eyes which glowed 
like walls of fire in the obscurity, the mob swayed 
backward with a strange murmur; a few soldiers even 
picked up their guns; but the next moment, a pro- 
longed roll of distant artillery threw them into a yet 
greater panic. 

^^Yang ping lai liao!^* again the cry went up, and 
now the forward surge was so strong that it almost 
took the big mule off its feet. Keeping his seat by 
a supreme effort, its rider looked about him over the 
heads of the multitude, and as he looked, his teeth 
gnashed together with a harsh grating sound, and a 
spasm of rage and despair shook his huge body. No 
voice now, could stem that tide of terror! The great 
game was over and he had lost! 

“Run! Dogs of Chinamen! Run!” he mocked aloud, 
and broke into a long hideous peal of laughter. 

Then suddenly he caught sight of the Boxer Divinity 
still struggling with her girls a few yards from him, 
and his eyes flamed with a new energy. 


THE GREAT SWORD 


283 


‘^Mahlee!’’ he cried aloud to her across the seething 
heads. “Courage! I am coming!” 

He began to clear his way by brutal blows of his 
musket on the heads and shoulders of the fleeing sol- 
diery. 

“Out of my path, vile turtle’s spawn! Clear me a 
way, rabbits!” 

In a few minutes he was almost within arm’s length 
of the palanquin and its pale occupant. 

“Mahlee! Child! I am here!” he cried again with 
hoarse triumph, extending his arms. 

But he had given one blow too many. A soldier, 
braver than the others, turned with an angry curse and 
smote the black mule over the eyes with his own gun. 
The enormous beast, crazed with pain, reared and 
plunged, and then began to kick viciously, wounding 
many with its heels. It was the signal for a rain of 
blows on beast and rider. 

“False Prophet!” 

“Sham Patriot!” 

“Call to the Goddess for help!” 

“This time it is for you to get out of our way, bast- 
ard of a foreign devil.” 

For awhile, the man in the saddle answered curse 
for curse, blow for blow, and by a miracle of strength 
and dexterity kept his seat on the plunging animal. 
In the light of the torches, still carried by the girls 
around the palanquin, his big head, bound in its red 
cloth, showed livid with rage above his assailants. Then 
some one shouted: “Shoot him down!” and instantly 
a dozen muskets were aimed at him and discharged. 

A loud raucous cry broke from him; for a second or 
two he still rocked giddily in his saddle, his eyes start- 
ing from his face, a thick foam of agony gathering on 
his lips. Raising himself in the stirrups, he hurled 
his great naked sword in the face of his enemies. Then 
with a last superhuman effort, he again stretched out 


284 


THE RED LANTERN 


his arms to the girl; he opened his mouth to call her, 
but in place of her name, a great tide of blood gushed 
from his lips, mingling with the foam; he fell, lunging 
heavily forward towards the palanquin. The wounded 
and maddened mule dragged him for several yards 
through the mob; then the beast also dropped dead, 
and the feet of the fleeing multitude passed over them. 

In the midst of her cowering maidens, the Goddess 
of the Red Lantern Light sat, open-lidded, unconscious, 
a staring image of stone. 

Two men, who had watched the episode from a short 
distance, turned to each other with a grim smile. 

“That’s the end of one of the Triplets, Chung,” the 
taller of the two said. “Do you remember what old 
Huang-ma used to prophesy: ‘A fish sports in the 
kettle, but his life will not be long’? . . . But let’s 

get Mahlee back to the palace and the girls to their 
homes on East Bell Street. See! See! she’s fainted! 
She’s falling!” 


XXVII 


I T was nine o’clock on the ensuing night, and a page 
in the history of the Manchu Dynasty was just 
being ingloriously terminated. For as the last stroke 
of the hour sounded from the palace time-pieces, the 
great northern gates of the Forbidden City, moved, 
as it might almost seem, by some secret and long pre- 
meditated treachery against those pampered individuals 
whom they had so long shielded from the perils and 
hunger of ordinary mortals, closed sullenly upon the 
Sacred Persons. 

The Imperial gates closed, and the Throne of China 
was empty! The Old Buddha and the Son of Heaven 
had ignominiously fled in the dress of common Chinese. 
And over their great capital, the Western Barbarians 
had settled like a swarm of locusts driven in by some 
adverse wind. In a few hours the Violet City itself, 
mystic impenetrable abode of the Emperors, would be 
turned into a den of thieves. But for this brief interval 
after the mad disorder of the flight, while as yet the 
enemy rested from the fatigues of its long forced march 
aud turbulent entrance into Peking, an unnatural quiet 
prevailed throughout the vast area of the palace. 

Mahlee stood supremely still within the great closed 
gateway until the rumbling of the last cart in that 
piteous ignoble cortege of the fleeing Rulers was 
drowned in the silence. Then she turned with an enig- 
matic smile. 

“The key!” she said peremptorily. 

The tall eunuch Wu motioned to a man dressed in the 
sky-blue tunic of the palace guards, who advanced with 
an enormous key. 


285 


286 


THE RED LANTERN 


She placed it in the lock of the great iron-clamped 
gate, and turned it with a sharp contemptuous twist of 
her slender hand. The movement seemed in truth like 
a gesture of disdain towards those pitiful vanishing po- 
tentates. Then with a curious hauteur more whimsical 
than real, as if she were laughing at the recognition in 
herself of some old childish pose, she deliberately stepped 
into the Imperial yellow sedan, just abandoned by the 
Great Ancestress, and gave the order to return. The 
accent of the command was an exact reproduction of the 
Empress* own! 

There was a moment of astonished hesitation among 
the chair-bearers, aghast at the sacrilege, while the other 
eunuchs near by, who had been left in the haste of the 
court’s flight, began to crowd about the chair and utter 
violent protestations. But the big Wu, with an in- 
scrutable expression coming into his eyes, suddenly 
waved his hand : 

‘‘Make way for Our Goddess of the Red Lantern 
Light,” he cried; and, as if hypnotised, the chair- 
bearers raised the sedan and all the eunuchs fell into 
line. 

“Our Goddess of the Red Lantern Light!” they 
echoed, waving aloft their lighted torches. 

With a strange little laugh of mingled self -mockery 
and triumph, Mahlee fell back on the yellow satin 
cushions and abandoned herself to the illusion of the 
hour. 

“A tai-tai, a very great she murmured. 

And as she reclined there and was borne swiftly along 
in the night, the stillness of the great deserted place laid 
hold on her. How old the world was here ! She seemed 
to remember herself as some princess of ancient Thebes 
or Babylon, returning from a long journey to the palace 
of her fathers. These colossal silent avenues, these vast 
marble courts, this labyrinth of walls, thick as those of 


THE GREAT SWORD 


287 


a dungeon and blood-red in the torches’ flare; the op- 
pressive tunnel-like depth and hugeness of the triple 
gates through which she passed, surmounted by their 
incomprehensible towers and guarded by their mon- 
strous heraldic beasts which seemed to squint at her with 
evil eyes; and weighing down upon all, the terrible 
yellow monotony of the palace roofs, — these things ap- 
peared in the midsummer-night’s gloom but as the 
phantasmagoria of a dream. 

She was still possessed by this swooning sense of utter 
unreality, — of moving in a time and place immeasurably 
remote from the present, — when the sedan stopped at 
last before the old Dowager’s palace, but lately the scene 
of such wild confusion. As she alighted with the help 
of Wu, the other eunuchs, who at the out-set had pro- 
tested against her audacity, now stood silent and respect- 
ful. Indeed these sexless creatures, with their life-long 
training in obedience and suave ceremonies, were incapa- 
ble of real resistance. Probably at heart they were in- 
different. Why, in truth, should they care to uphold the 
honour of a run-away old Empress and an empty throne 
in this paltry moment left before the inevitable inrush 
of the barbarians? Many of their faces now began to 
reflect Wu’s own ironical enjoyment of seeing an ob- 
scure girl, figurehead of a lost cause, usurp with such 
fine impudence the immemorially sacred prerogatives of 
the Great Ancestress to whose vain pomps they had been 
so cruelly sacrificed in youth. At a sign from Wu, they 
now raised their torches in final salute. 

^‘Our Goddess of the Red Lantern Light!” they cried, 
as Mahlee passed up to the Throne Room. She turned 
at the threshold and smiled at them her enigmatic smile. 
It was her acknowledgment of the last public homage 
ever paid to the great Divinity of the Boxers 1 

Then the immense folding doors opened to let her 
pass. She entered alone. The great hall was quite 


288 


THE RED LANTERN 


dark, and even in the Angnst night emanated a faint 
chill as from an empty sarcophagus. She stopped in the 
middle of the floor and turned towards the invisible 
throne. 

“The Old Buddha!’’ she exclaimed, and the darkness 
rang with the flercely mocking cynicism of her laugh. 



\ 




XXYIII 


FAINT radiance behind the padded satin por- 



tieres which fell from the lintel of the great 
dragon-emblazoned door, leading from the hall to her 
Majesty’s day rooms, told Mahlee that she was expected 
by some one. It was her pretty Manchu handmaiden, 
Tsi Chu, who by some instinct had divined that her mis- 
tress would come back that night to the Imperial cham- 
bers rather than go to her own palace. She had lighted 
the big lantern which hung from the ceiling in the sit- 
ting room, and put everything in immaculate order, so 
that not a sign was left to betray the shameful panic 
which had so lately taken place there. 

The girl was lighting some slender tapers of sweet in- 
cense before the small shrine to Buddha, as Mahlee 
parted the curtains. At the slight sound, she turned 
and gazed at her mistress. Then, as if awestruck by the 
remote look of Mahlee ’s face, she dropped to her knees. 
Glorious Goddess!” she murmured. 

But Mahlee put a hand on the maid’s shoulder. 

^‘Little Purple Bamboo,” she said in English, as if 
speaking to herself, ^‘it is but a poor weak Goddess we 
are to-night.” Her voice expressed infinite ennui. 

Then, in Chinese, she gently bade the girl rise and tell 
her what had occurred during her absence. 

Tsi Chu, emboldened by her mistress’ kindness, began 
to talk eagerly. She told her that there were many 
concubines and slave girls left in the palace who were 
in despair at the thought of the fate which awaited 
them on the morrow ; they were now huddled together in 
one of the pavilions and begged the clement Goddess to 
come and give them counsel. 


19 


289 


290 


THE KED LANTERN 


Mahlee knit her brows at this news. Alas! What 
could she do for these helpless ones abandoned by their 
Imperial protectors ? Poor forbidden fruit kept for the 
delight of a Son of Heaven, now in danger of being 
ruthlessly ground into the mud by hordes of barbarous 
soldiers I She thought rapidly. To whom could she 
commit them? — to what power, to whose mercy? Sud- 
denly a curious look flashed over her face. Andrew 
Handel! She laughed to herself as she remembered 
that last picture of him, walking so gravely at the head 
of the troop of school girls, — poor silly sheep rescued by 
this noble young shepherd from the slaughter house! 
Had she been one of those girls, how gladly would he 
have saved her, too, — with what flne impersonal heroism 
snatched her from destruction ! 

She laughed again bitterly. Yes, it was clear that 
Andrew Handel was the one to call upon now. Succourer 
of innocents ! What more befitting work, indeed, for an 
immaculate young Knight of the Cross! 

“Tsi Chu,’^ she said, “lead me to the pavilion where 
the women are.’’ 

The maid preceded her through several courts, now 
deserted by even the eunuchs, up a flight of marble steps, 
and across a wide terrace, adorned with impossible 
dwarf trees and gigantic bronze urns. At the end of 
the terrace, was a lighted glass gallery leading into a 
pleasure pavilion where Mahlee saw groups of Manchu 
girls in brilliantly coloured silks, with cheeks and lips 
dyed carmine, and fantastic flower-bedecked coiffures. 
Some were talking and gesticulating hysterically ; others, 
frightened to silence ; but at the sound of foot-steps, one 
and all uttered shrill screams of terror and fled into a 
court beyond. Mahlee smiled at the scuffle of their lit- 
tle feet, — the vision of their gaudy vanishing tunics. 
Their alarms seemed to her scarcely more real than the 
panic of a set of figures detached from some antique fan 
or bit of old porcelain. They came peeping and peering 


THE GREAT SWORD 


291 


back presently, and when they saw that it was the 
‘‘Goddess,’^ were soon kneeling about her with little 
imploring cries and gestures. 

She gave them what comfort she could. That very 
night, she promised, a message would go from her on 
their behalf, to a powerful young god who would come 
in the disguise of a foreigner and rescue them if they 
were ever in any real danger. 

“You will know your deliverer,’’ she said with an odd 
intonation, “by his eyes, which are the colour of pale 
opals, and his hair, which is like gold mingled with ashes, 
and his voice, which is as the sound of water flowing 
from a mountain glacier. Whatever he bids you do, 
obey him without question, for he is a being of marvel- 
lous goodness and wisdom.” Here Mahlee paused to 
strangle a hard little laugh, and then continued. “If 
he commands you to go forth with him out of the palace, 
go without fear, for he will lead you to a place of safety ; 
but if he tells you to abide where you are, be at peace, 
likewise, since this will mean that the Great Chiefs of 
the foreigners will give you ample protection.” 

As she ended, the poor creatures thanked her with 
obsequious formulas of gratitude accompanied by kow- 
towings of their flower-bedecked heads. They seemed, 
indeed, perfectly reassured, even happily excited. 

“Opal eyes, hair like gold mingled with ashes, a voice 
as the sound of water from a mountain glacier,” they 
repeated to each other with bright little nods of won- 
der. Surely the advent of a god, even in the disguise of 
one of the dreaded foreigners, would be a welcome varia- 
tion in the monotony of their lives. 

As Mahlee withdrew with her handmaid, she smiled at 
them graciously, though with some weariness. Pretty 
pets of a Chinese Emperor! How alien they seemed to 
her at that moment ; how sharply did they make her feel 
her own infinite isolation. She glanced back as she re- 
crossed the terrace. They were now chattering together 


292 


THE RED LANTERN 


joyously. In the frail kiosk, they looked like birds of 
gay plumage imprisoned in some fantastic cage. 

On re-entering the Empress^ chambers, Tsi Chu, with- 
out a word from Mahlee, hastened to prepare the writing 
materials for the letter. Since it was to be addressed to 
a god, the young girl felt that great care must be taken 
in the selection of the ^^Wan fang sz pao’^ or “four pre- 
cious things of the library,’’ namely, the pen, ink, paper 
and inkstone. After numerous comparisons and discard- 
ings, she finally took from a sandal-wood box lined with 
yellow silk a narrow slip of tinted rice-paper of exquisite 
transparent tissue stamped with various emblems in 
water lines. She spread this out upon a table, laying 
beside it a number of fine brushes and a carved soap- 
stone upon which the old Dowager rubbed her India ink. 
The stick that Tsi Chu chose was violet-coloured and per- 
fumed. She moistened it and rubbed it upon the stone 
until the ink was of proper consistency; then with a 
gesture towards the table, and a low bow to her mistress, 
the maid withdrew to an inner room. 

Left alone, Mahlee sat down before the table. She 
took up one of the brushes, dipped it in the ink and tried 
it mechanically on a bit of the polished surface of the 
soap-stone. It wrote well, but she discarded it for an- 
other, and that for a third. Finally, with a curious 
absent-minded deliberateness, she drew the paper to- 
wards her, examined with minute attention each one of 
the emblems traced in water lines, then dipping her 
brush once more in the ink, began to cover the page with 
her beautiful Chinese ideographs. She wrote slowly, 
almost painfully, forming each character with great care 
as if to satisfy a master of penmanship. The thought 
came to her that the Ya-bah would have been pleased to 
see how neatly she made each stroke. 

“Most illustrious and estimable Light of Wisdom,’’ 
she wrote. “The egg fights with the rock, even as we 
have fought with you. Hopeless resistance doomed to 


THE GKEAT SWORD 


293 


early defeat! Yet are great conquerors ever magnani- 
mous and the ‘feeling of pity’ as Mencius tells us, ‘is 
common to all men.’ Nevertheless, she who writes these 
words does not beg pity for herself, knowing now hov/ 
soon she will be beyond so trivial a need. Only in be- 
half of those helpless ones, the Manchu virgins left in 
this palace, many of whom are mere children, and all of 
whom are blameless, does she beseech your merciful 
care ; so that even as you were a saviour unto the maid- 
ens of the mission school, you will now deliver these also 
from dishonour, either by leading them forth yourself, 
if need be, to a place of safety, or by commending 
them with earnestness to the protection of the great 
Allies.” 

She read this over three times, smiled, albeit a little 
wanly, at her classic quotation, and the elegance of her 
chirography, then took from a wallet at her belt a small 
monolith of chalcedony carved at the base in high relief 
with the single character for Goddess. It was her offi- 
cial seal. She dipped it in the scented violet-coloured 
ink and pressed it firmly upon the paper in the place for 
her signature. The impression was perfect. But as she 
removed the stone, her hand became strangely limp, and 
the seal, released from her grasp fell to the floor and 
cracked obliquely across the sacred character. 

Was it an omen? In spite of herself, Mahlee uttered 
a sharp cry of fear. The chill from the dark Throne 
Room beyond reached her through the satin portieres 
like a menace. She remembered with a shudder, those 
huge terrible walls through which she had passed, and 
which now shut her in almost hermetically. Rampart 
within rampart, blood-red, blind, inexorable, they seemed 
like the double, the quadruple, — the infinitely multi- 
plied — sides of some vast stone coffin. She felt smoth- 
ered, — suffocated. Half rising, she began to push out 
with her hands on either side, as if to keep off some 
formidable weight which threatened to crush her. But 


294 


THE RED LANTERN 


the next instant she realised the absurdity of her ges- 
ture and sank feebly back into her chair. The fierce 
pride which had so long sustained her, left her com- 
pletely. She felt little and weak, — childishly terrified. 
Her throat contracted in a desire to cry as she dropped 
both arms across the table and bent her head over them 
in a pitiful attitude of defeat. 

‘ ‘ 0, Andrew ! Andrew ! ’ ’ she wailed. 

Then suddenly she raised her head, seized a scrap of 
paper and a pen, and began to write in English with 
eager passionate haste. 

“Come to me,” she wrote. “Come quickly, Andrew, 
my love. Take me from this tomb where I suffocate, 
where the walls are crushing out my breath. I love 
you ! I want you ! All the rest has been a terrible mis- 
take, — a hideous, unthinkable nightmare. Yet the worst 
has not happened; I have escaped Sam Wang, — I have 
belonged to no one, — and now he is dead. He is dead ! 
And there will be no more savage warfare and blood- 
shed, — only quietness and peace and joy together. And 
whatever pleases you I will learn to do ; your gods shall 
be my gods. I will be a Christian again and follow all 
the maxims and works of piety. How easy, indeed, that 
will be since I love you so much ! Oh, we shall be happy, 
happy! and you will forget the proud English girl 
whose heart is cold towards you, and know, at last, that 
it is I — I alone — who love you truly.” 

She paused in her feverish haste, and her pen quav- 
ered over the paper in a last appeal. 

‘ ‘ 0 Andrew, pity me ! save me 1 ” 

Then with renewed haste, as if her life were in some 
instant jeopardy, she folded the paper and scratched an 
address on the back. 

“Tsi Chu! Tsi Chul” she called, rising from her 
chair. 

The maid came out from the inner room and looked 
with alarm at her mistress’ altered face. 


THE GREAT SWORD 


295 


‘‘Our Goddess of the Red Lantern Light!” she said, 
falling upon her knees to receive the command. 

But at the absurd inflated title and the girl’s posture 
of adoration, Mahlee shrank back like one suddenly con- 
victed of a crime. The weird scene before the Boxer 
chiefs on the night when she had taken her oath of al- 
legiance to the Great Sword Society, and was flrst hailed 
by the name of Goddess, rose vividly to her mind. She 
had sworn then to die rather than to recant. Yet what 
else was this letter which she had just been writing but 
a recantation — but high treason — itself? Were her feel- 
ings destined to play her false to the end? A wave of 
shame swept her face. If she were, indeed, nothing but 
the heroine in a bad melodrama, she would at least be 
true in her poor part. She put a quick hand over the 
letter to hide it from Tsi Chu’s eyes. But in another 
moment, her features had assumed their old immobility 
and when she spoke it was in a cool steady voice. 

“Tell Wu to come here,” she said briefly. 

While waiting for the eunuch, Mahlee deliberately 
took up the letter she had written in Chinese on behalf 
of the slave girls and concubines, and folding it into an 
envelope, carefully addressed it. When Wu appeared, 
she gave him explicit directions for its delivery, which 
must on no account, she said, be delayed beyond an 
early hour of the morning. The eunuch assured her 
that her command should be exactly performed, and 
dropping on his knee, received the missive in a yellow 
box as from the hand of the Empress. 

Upon his exit, Mahlee returned to the table, twisted 
the scrap of paper upon which she had last been writing, 
into a spiral about her long foreflnger, and going over 
to the small shrine, set fire to it at one of the lighted 
incense sticks. She held it until it fell in ash from her 
hand at the feet of the Buddha. And Tsi Chu, watching 
reverently, knew that some mysterious sacrifice had just 
been offered from one divinity to a greater. 


XXIX 


T hen Mahlee turned with a strange smile to Tsi 
Chu. 

Bring me a pestle and mortar/’ she said, seating 
herself. 

The girl obeyed wonderingly. 

‘‘And now some sweet herbs and old wine.” 

Tsi Chu, with increased astonishment, brought wine 
in a beautiful jade cup, and, with it, several bunches of 
rare aromatic leaves from a chest used for the old Dow- 
ager’s medicines and pungents. Mahlee selected a few 
of the most fragrant and ground them to a fine powder 
which she poured into the wine. 

“It is for our sunrise potion, ’ ’ she explained with the 
same strange smile. “It will not lack bouquet.” 

“Our sunrise potion. Glorious Goddess?” echoed the 
girl in surprise. 

“Yes,” said her mistress, raising her head slowly from 
the mortar. “We hold high audience to-morrow at 
dawn and shall need a pleasant stimulant. Yet one in- 
gredient is still laclring in the cup.” 

“One ingredient?” again echoed the maid with an 
accent of fear. 

“The most essential of all,” replied Mahlee, fixing 
Tsi Chu with her gaze. 

The girl trembled without comprehending. She was 
fascinated, but a little frightened by the Goddess ’ azure 
eyes. 

Mahlee continued in an even tone. 

‘ ‘ Do you remember the eunuch Kuei who was guilty of 
disobedience, Tsi Chu?” 


296 


THE GREAT SWORD 


297 . 


The maid trembled still more as she replied in the 
affirmative. 

“And do you recall what the Empress put into his 
wine one dayT^ 

The little Manchu paled. “Poison, Great Goddess,’^ 
she whispered. “I know the vial in which she keeps 
it ready for all those who disobey. It is distilled from 
deadly herbs, and kills at once, yet without agony or 
contortion. ’ ’ 

Mahlee looked at her steadily. 

“Fetch me that vial, Tsi Chu.” 

The eyes of the two women met in a long gaze. 

Then without a word, like a true Oriental, Tsi Chu 
brought the vial. 

Her mistress took it from her hand and slowly poured 
its contents into the scented wine. 

“Some would say, Tsi Chu, that we are preparing a 
bitter draught here,” she said in a tone of curious leis- 
ure, “but you can see for yourself that it is sweet.” 
She held up the cup to the girl’s face that she might 
catch the aroma. 

The little handmaid shuddered, then suddenly fell on 
her face, kowtowing before Mahlee. 

“Clement Goddess,” she murmured pleadingly, like 
a child begging for a treat. ‘ ‘ Leave some sweet wine for 
me at the bottom of the cup.” 

Mahlee put her hand caressingly upon Tsi Chu’s 
flower-like head. “I will remember,” she said softly. 
“Yet promise me to drink only if it be needful.” 

When she had wrung a reluctant promise from the 
girl, she arose and set the jade cup aside. It would not 
be needed until dawn ! 

The musical clocks in the Empress’ sitting room were 
now striking midnight. Outside, under the eaves of the 
palace roof, two doves stirred in their sleep, and began to 
coo plaintively to one another. But when the melodious 
chiming had ceased, the doves again settled to repose. 


298 


THE BED LANTERN 


‘‘Tsi Chu/’ said Mahlee, as the last stroke sounded, 
‘‘we will sleep now.’’ 

And that night, Mahlee, with none to say her nay, 
slept in the bed of the Empress Dowager of China. She 
flung herself upon it with the same little laugh of self- 
mocking triumph that she had given when she usurped 
the Imperial sedan at the gate of the Forbidden City. 
It was the great carved day-couch, built into an alcove 
and curtained off from the large sitting room by richly 
embroidered satin hangings. In this recess, the elegant 
old woman was wont to take her afternoon siesta, lulled 
to repose by the cadenced voice of a eunuch reading 
from her favourite classics. 

A subtle odour pervaded the place, — exquisite, but a 
little sickly, as of frail perfumed things, perishing and 
already touched by decay. So, Mahlee thought, might 
withered flowers' smell on the bosoms of dead queens in 
ancient tombs. She turned half faint and parted the 
curtains of the alcove to let in the fresher air from the 
sitting room. Then she lay back among the silken cush- 
ions of the bed and drew over her a sumptuous yellow 
coverlet brocaded with golden dragons. 

“A tai-tai, a very great tai-tai” she murmured for 
the second time that night as her eyelids closed. 

But her dream took her back to a day in the old 
squalid coffin-yard. She was a little child of flve or six ; 
and one morning she ran out on the street, where a 
great bully of a boy began to throw stones at her, calling 
aloud: “Hsiao yang kwei-tz/^ or little foreign devil; 
and when she asked him why he called her by that ugly 
name, he told her mockingly to go look at her eyes and 
she would know why. So she ran into the house and 
asked her grandmother for a mirror that she might see 
her eyes. But her grandmother turned angrily upon 
her and said : ‘ ‘ Girl, will you always be a cat treading 
on my heart?” 

Then she was afraid: but she waited, and when Ma- 


.THE GREAT SWORD 


299 


dame Ling’s back was turned, climbed on to a chair and 
looked into a mirror on the wall. And she saw that her 
eyes were hlue like a demon’s! 

Mahlee half awoke with a cry of childish terror. Then 
the torpor of the August night repossessed her, and her 
spirit sank into complete oblivion. 

And now there was absolute silence in the palace. It 
was as if the stillness of a thousand years of seclusion 
had concentrated itself into these last hours before the 
rude breaking in of the barbarian. Even the Chinese 
soldiery lying within the extreme ramparts, slept in 
their places. Outside, in the court through which Mah- 
lee had passed to the Throne Room, the waning moon- 
light revealed the bronze phoenixes and crouching lions; 
and, stealing through the curtained windows of the Im- 
perial apartments, touched to cold lustre the bouquets 
of jade and agate flowers set under their glass cases on 
the carved chests and tables. Curled upon a divan, the 
little Manchu handmaid slept profoundly. And on the 
great Imperial bed, with her dusky hair spread over the 
yellow satin cushions, and her form discreetly outlined 
beneath the sumptuous coverlet, Mahlee lay like the 
Sleeping Beauty of the Enchanted Palace. 



XXX 


T he hoarse continuous barking of cannon aroused 
Mahlee at dawn. She raised herself on her elbow 
and listened intently. The southern entrances to tlie 
palace were being bombarded. Then as she still listened, 
there was a heavy sound of crashing stones and timber. 
The first gates had fallen! Immediately in answer, 
came a long hissing fire from the Chinese riflemen who, 
since the day before, had been silently hidden within the 
palace enclosures. 

But Mahlee knew that the last act had begun. Very 
deliberately, as if now, in truth, there were no doubt 
left as to what she must do, she arose from the Imperial 
bed, and began to don her ineffectual regalia of war. 
She clothed her long svelte body in the splendid crimson 
tunic embroidered in gold with the battle of the Chi- 
mgeras, drew on her feet the high-soled Manchu shoes 
of red satin studded with gems, and circled her brow 
above her heavy black braids with the jewelled head-dress 
adorned with the Flaming Pearl and great Euby. It 
would be high audience, indeed, that day ! 

Yet before she entered the Throne Eoom she had an- 
other duty to perform. Her soul as well as her body 
must be in worthy array to meet the Great Conqueror 
who was coming! 

A hidden stairway led from the bed-alcove- to a floor 
above, where, in a dim oratory, the Great Ancestress se- 
cluded herself daily for prayer and meditation. Mahlee 
now mounted the flight of steps, and found herself at 
once in this private sanctuary. The vague light of early 
morning, filtering through small panes of mother-of- 

300 


THE GREAT SWORD 


301 


pearl set into the latticed windows, shed an opalescent 
glamour over the surface of things, leaving their bulk 
in gloom. It was like the sheen of phosphorus rather 
than daylight, a vague spectral radiance fitting to the 
place. It brought out in a lucid band the dado of saints 
and personified virtues in robes of gold and crimson 
painted about the wall, and set to pale gleaming the mag- 
nificent ornaments on the high altar; the tall candle- 
sticks damascened with precious stones ; the archaic 
vases upholding branches of jewelled fiowers; and upon 
the great dreamy face of the golden Buddha above them, 
it rested like a mystery. 

Mahlee sank upon the silken prayer rug of Imperial 
yellow in front of the altar. Slow spirals of perfumed 
incense, mounting from two great antique censers, en- 
veloped her in an azure haze. She stretched her long 
arms out through the smoke and prostrated herself be- 
fore the God. 

A Mi T’o Fo . . . A Mi T’o Fo . . . (0 

Great Lord Buddha!) The girl’s body swayed from 
right to left with a long rhythmic motion. The sun was 
rising, and the vague light in the oratory began to quiver 
with a thousand motes like fine gold dust blown softly 
upward on the ascending smoke-spirals. . . . A Mi 

T’o Fo . . . A Mi T’o Fo. . . . Were her eyes 

dazzled by the warm shimmer? or had her own reiterated 
movements made her a victim to hallucination ? 

For, from the Buddha, seated so still and impassive 
on the lotus-throne, another figure, more sublime, more 
daring and heroic, appeared to be emerging with arms 
out-stretched in the form of a Cross. And suddenly, as 
the beautiful and lofty head broke through into the 
light, those out-stretched arms reached towards her in a 
gesture of infinite tenderness, while the eyes above them 
fixed her own with an intensity she could scarce endure. 

^‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life.” 


302 


THE KED LANTERN 


The silence was eloquent with appeal. Life, life ! and 
she was on the brink of oblivion! 

‘‘Christ!” she cried, springing to her feet and wildly 
holding out her arms to the vision. “0 Christ, save 
me !” 

But at the sound of her own voice she shuddered 
back. No, no! this, too, would be dishonour. Was He 
not the God of the West which had rejected her? — the 
God of her father who had given her life only to cast her 
off ? Not the fear of oblivion itself could make her for- 
get that ! 

With a low broken moan, she dropped her arms and 
let herself fall again on the prayer rug. ... A Mi 
T’oFo . . . AMiT’oFo. . . . 

• «•••••• • 

When she arose at last her features were as passion- 
less as the Buddha’s on the high altar. For there on her 
face before the great image of Passivity the long fierce 
duel of her life had ended. The East had claimed her 
child. 

Slowly, almost stiffly, as if keeping step to some sol- 
emn processional music, Mahlee passed out of the ora- 
tory and down the stairs. But as she paused in the Im- 
perial sitting room to take the jade cup from its place, 
something broke the fixity of her gaze. It was the vision 
of the little Manchu handmaid still sleeping like a child. 
She went to the divan, and bending over it, touched with 
her lips the smooth cheek of the girl. 

“Poor little Purple Bamboo!” she whispered and a 
film of tears clouded her sight. 

Then, with the cup in her hand, she passed into the 
vast hall beyond. Its chill struck her mortally as the 
satin portieres closed behind her back. She shivered, 
and with a last blind instinct of flight, put her arm out 
as if to part them again and escape, when a closer, 
sharper barking of the guns echoed and re-echoed 
through the hall. Instantly, Mahlee stiffened and set 


THE GREAT SWORD 


303 


her face towards the Throne. It was time, indeed, for 
her high audience ! 

Resuming her slow processional measure, she advanced 
up the floor of polished black marble in which the som- 
bre splendour of the dull crimson walls and central 
dome, with its massive carved and painted pendatives, 
was reflected like the rich hues of an autumnal forest in 
some deep pool. She gained the low carpeted dais, and 
mounting the steps seated herself upon the great Dynas- 
tic Throne. 

‘‘A tai-tai, a very great tai-tai/* she murmured, and 
raising the cup to her lips, received the Conqueror with 
an unscathed smile. 


XXXI 


LTHOUGH the hour was still early, the news of 



the tragedy enacted in the Throne Room had al- 
ready spread through the palace when the eunuch Wu 
opened the immense folding doors for Andrew Handel 
to pass in. 

The hardships of the siege had sharpened the young 
divine’s face to lines of yet severer asceticism, and his 
body, in its limp and worn clothing, looked almost ema- 
ciated. As the doors closed behind him, and he ad- 
vanced alone into the great hall, his step was slow, well- 
nigh halting. For although he had been told- by the 
eunuch how he should find IMahlee, the actual sense of 
her presence there, even before he had perceived her, 
shocked him indefinably. And in this mood and mo- 
ment, the ascetic in him was sharply repelled by the 
magnificence of the place, its touch of barbaric grandiose. 

The August sun, coming through the windows below 
the dome and refiected from the red walls and splendid 
coffered ceiling, sent flames of colour across the vast 
spaces of the interior without dispelling its obscurity or 
vault-like chill. And from afar he saw her, touched by 
the flames, a gleaming jewelled figure, throned in all the 
Pagan arrogance of its beauty, looking strangely tall 
and upright against the dull massiveness of the bronze 
screen behind the throne, yet listless, too, under the 
weight of its stiff archaic robes. 

The black marble floor turned to ice under his feet as 
he approached, and its chill had left his face bloodless 
when at last he stood before the throne. He tried to 
avert his eyes, but he could not; and, gradually, as he 


304 


THE GREAT SWORD 


305 


gazed, the colour began to surge back strongly to his 
face. Her sumptuous calm smote him like a vision from 
the mighty past. 

“Semiramis, Queen of Nineveh!’^ he murmured, en- 
thralled. 

. Then he saw her hand half stretched towards him from 
the sleeve of the gorgeous tunic, with the long fingers 
pale and limp, yet forming themselves, as it almost 
seemed, into some gesture of appeal. Perhaps he began 
to realise at that moment something of the love he had 
repudiated, — a love for which he had sought in vain 
from her English sister, — for his face grew grey again, 
touched by a vague remorse, and unconsciously he 
obeyed her mystic beckoning. And when he was closer, 
she drev/ him on still, until he needs must see the sombre 
rings about the eyes, the heavy shadowed lids, the poor 
lips, red yet and half parted, but grave, now, after that 
last smile of hers! 

And suddenly he was smitten anew by her loveliness 
— not the superb thing of the moment before — but some 
strange touching purity of expression on the dead face, 
lifted and turned a little aside from him on its tender 
throat, with the black massed hair shading it mysteri- 
ously. 

And that hand stretched towards him! He stooped 
and caught the poor limp thing to his breast. 

‘ ‘ Mahlee ! ’ ’ he cried huskily, and bent to cover with a 
man’s passionate kisses the exquisite fingers which lay in 
his. But stooping closer, he caught as upon that night 
under the locust tree, their pale golden gleam, and again 
that old subtle aversion, which he had never named to 
himself, revived within him. Slowly, almost reluctantly, 
as he had done once before, he let the hand fall before his 
lips had touched it. 

Then for a long moment he gazed at her. And the 
blood receded again from his face, until it had assumed 
its old pallor. His eyes were gentle, infinitely pitying, 
20 


306 


THE RED LANTERN 


as he withdrew, but after that single moment of passion, 
he had become the priest once more. 

And it was his priestly office that he fulfilled, when at 
the door of the Throne Room, he gave the order to the 
eunuchs to carry her from the palace that she might be 
given a Christian burial. 


THE END 



MAUD DIVER 

A TRILOGY OF ANGLO-INDIAN 
ARMY LIFE 

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‘‘If living characters, perfect plot construction, imaginative breadth 
of canvas and absolute truth to life are the primary qualities of great 
realistic fiction, Mr. Phillpotts is one of the greatest novelists of the 
day. . . . He goes on turning out one brilliant novel after 

another, steadily accomplishing for Devon what Mr. Hardy did for 
Wessex. This is another of Mr. Phillpotts’ Dartmoor novels, and 
one that will rank with his best. . . Something of kinship with 

'‘King Lear’ and ‘ Pere Goriot.’ ” Chicago Record Herald. 

“The Balzac of Dartmore. It is easy and true to say that Mr. 
Phillpotts in all his work has done no single piece of portraiture 
betterthan this presentation of Philip Ouldsbroom. . . A triumph 

of the novelist’s understanding and keen drawing. . . A Dart- 

moor background described in terms of an artist’s deeply felt 
appreciation. — Ne<Tv York World. 

*‘No other English writer lias painted such facinating and colorful 
word -pictures of Dartmoor’s heaths and hills, woods and vales, and 
billowy plains of pallid yellow and dim green. Few others have 
.attempted such vivid character-portrayal as marks this latest work 
from begiiming to end.’’ Ihe North American. 

‘“A strong book, flashing here and there with beautiful gems of 
poetry. . . Providing endless food for thought. . . An in- 
tellectual treat. ’ ’ — London E'vening Standard. 

The Haven cloth. i2mo. $1.50 

“The foremost English novelist with the one exception of Thomas 
Hardy. . . His descriptions of the sea and his cliaracterization 

of the fisher folks are picturesqne, true to life, full of humorous 
philosophy.’* — JeannetieL. Gilder in The Chicago Tribune. 

“It is no dry bones of a chronicle, but touched by genius to life 
and vividness. ” — Louis^ville^ Kentucky ^ Post. 

“A close, tlioughtful study of universal human nature.” 

— The Outlook. 

“ One of the best of tliis author’s many works.” — The Bookman. 


M. P. WILLCOCKS 


The Way Up 


Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 


The Romance of an Ironmaster Touching Three Vital Questions 

(a) Capital and Labor. 

(b) The Claims of the Indinjidual Against Those of the State. 

(c) The Right of a Woman to Her 0<vjn Individuality. 

“ M. P. WillGocks is an English writer of unusual force and that 
dry, incisive humor dearly beloved of the intellectual reader. In 
‘The Way Up’ this writer crystallizes a tense and telling problem. 
The book is earnest enough for the most serious of readers, yet 
never dull or dreary. The humanization is admirable.” — Chicago 
Rccord-Herald. 

“ Miss Willcocks shows the wit of Barrie in close alliance with the 
bold realism of Thomas Hardy and the philosophic touches of 
George Meredith.” — Literary World., London. 

“Striking studies of character and grace of charm and style.” — 
Nevo York Sun. 

“Such books are worth keeping on the shelves, even by the classics, 
for tliey are painted In colors which do not fade.” — London Times. 


The Wingless Victory 


Cloth. 12mo. $1.50 


“A most remarkable novel which places the author In the first rank. 
This is a novel built to last.” — The Outlook. 

“ A book worth keeping on the shelves, even by the classics, for 
it is painted in colors which do not fade.” — The Times. 

“ It is an excellent thing for any reader to come across this book.” 
— Standard. 

“A splendid book.” — Tribune, 


A Man of Genius 


Cloth. 12mo. $1.50 


“ Far above the general level of contemporary fiction. A work of 
unusual power. ” — Professor William Lyon Phelps. 


Widdicombe 

A Romance of the Devonshire Moors 


Cloth. 12mo, $1. 50 


A. NEIL LYONS 


ROBERT BLATCHFORD 

Cloth, 12nio. 75 cents net. Postage 10 cts. 

The Sketch of a Personality. 

An Estimate of Some Achievement. 

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Cottage Pie cloth. i2mo. $1.50. 

A Country Spread. A Novel. 

Sixpenny Pieces cloth. l2mo. Si. 50. 

The Story of a Sixpenny Doctor 

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ing and characteristic a work. Power to stir human hearts and 
sway human sympathies. Holds the interest with a grip of iron and 
will make many think.’’ — Chicago Record Herald. 

“Unique in style and matter and Intense in human interest.’’ — 
Louis<ville Courier Journal. 

“Notable, pathetic, humorous and tragic. In realistic force and 
convincing trutli of characterization it is a striking achievement. 
Slum life has never been better portrayed.*’ — Brooklyn Eagle. 

Arthur’s Hotel cloth. i2mo. $1.50. 

“ Sketches of low life in London. The book will delight visitors 
to the slums.** — Nenxj York Sun. 


CHARLES MARRIOTT 


The Intruding Angel chth. l2mo. $1.50. 

The story of a mistaken marriage, and the final solution of the 
problem for the happiness of all parties concerned. 

When a Woman Woos cloth, i2mo. $1.50, 

“Unique. The book is on the whole a study of the relations of 
men and women in the particular institution of marriage. It is 
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decidedly what it is not. Full of the material of life. ” 

— Ne<vj York Times Book Reaiie^iu, 


A Spanish Holiday 

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“The spirit of Spain has been caught to a very great degree by the 
author of this book, and held fast between its covers. ” 

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NETTA SYRETT 

Olivia L. Carew cuti. lima. $i.50 

An interesting character study of a passionless, self-absorbed woman 
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Anne Page. A Love-story of To-day Cloth. 12mo. $1..50 

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straight and narrow way.” — Ne<uj York Times, 

Six Fairy Plays for Children 

Sq. 12mo. $1.00 net. Postage 8 cents. 


ANATOLE FRANCE 


“Anatole France is a writer whose personality is very strongly re- 
flected in his works. . . .To reproduce his evanescent grace 

and charm is not to be lightly achieved, but the translators have 
done their work with care, distinction, and a very happy sense of 
the value of words .” — Daily Graphic. 

“We must now all read all of Anatole France. The offer is too 
good to be shirked. He is just Anatole France, the greatest 
living writer of French.” — Daily Chronicle. 


Complete Limited Edition in English 

Under the general editorship of Frederic Chapman. 
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Balthasar 

The Well of St. Clare 
The Red Lily 
Mother of Pearl , 

The Crime of 
Sylvestre Bonnard 
The Garden of Epicurus 
Thais 

The Merrie Tales of 
Jacques Tournebroche 

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^8 net per set. Postage extra. 

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Jerome Coignard 
Jocasta and 
the Famished Cat 

The Aspirations of 
Jean Servien 

The Elm Tree on 
the Mall 

My Friend’s Book 
The Wicker- 
Work Woman 
At the Sign of 
the Queen Pedauque 

Profitable Tales 


GILBERT K. CHESTERTON 

“Always entertaining. ” — Neiv York Evening Sun. 
“Always original. Tribune. 


Heretics 12mo. $1.50 net. Postage 12 cents 

“ His thinking is as sane as his language is brilliant.” 

— Chicago Record-Herald, 

Orthodoxy. Uniform with ‘‘Heretics.’’ 

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“A work of genius.” — Chicago Evening Post. 

All Things Considered 

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George Bernard Shaw. A Biography 

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“It is a facinating portrait study and I am proud to have been the 
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“A brilliant piece of satire, gemmed with ingenious paradox. 
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The Ball and the Cross Cloth. 12mo. $1.50 

“The most strikingly original novel of the present season. It is 
studded with intellectual brilliants. Its satire is keener than that of 
Bernard Shaw. Behind all this foolery there shines the light of 
Truth. A brilliant piece of satire — a gem that sparkles from any 
point of view the reader may choose to regard it. ’ ’ 

— San Francisco Bulletin, 


BERNARD SHAW 
AS ARTIST-PHILOSOPHER 
BY RENEE M. DEACON 

Cloth. 16mo. $1.00 net. Postage 10 cents 

A brief account of the Shavian philosophy, in which 
the main trend of Bernard Shaw’s thought is clearly indicated, 
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“Perhaps the best examination of Bernard Shaw 
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“Full of quick and suggestive ideas. Many will gain a 
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— Chicago Record-Herald. 


SOCIALISM AND SUPERIOR BRAINS 

BY BERNARD SHAW 

Cloth. 16mo. 75 cents net. Postage 10 cents 

Portrait frontispiece by the author. A new book by 
Bernard Shaw, dealing with the following topics : 

The Able Author. 

The Able Inventor. 

Ability at Supply-and-Demand Prices. 

The Ability that Gives Value for Money. 

Waste of Ability and Inflation of Its Prices by 
the Rich. 

Artificial Rent of Ability. 

Artificial Ability. 

How Little Really Goes to Ability, etc., etc. 

“Written with that matchless virility for which Mr. Shaw 
is so famous. Socialism has never had, and probably never 
will have, a better and abler exponent and defender.” 

— Dundee Advertiser. 



THE HICKORY LIMB 

BY 

PARKER H. FILLMORE 

Illustrated. Cloth. 16mo. 50 cents net. Postage 6 cents. 

“ ‘ The Hickory Limb’ is a remarkable story, which I 
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knowledge of human nature, tenderness and humor.” 

— Charles Battell Loomis. 

“a true and amusing picture of child life.” 

— Louisville Courier-Journal. 

‘ * The little heroine and all the children are capital. ’ ’ 

— New York Sun. 

“a charming companion to popular ‘Alice in Wonder- 
land.’ ” — Chicago Record- Hera Id. 

“ One of the most relishable pieces of humor evolved 
in some time.” — Albany Argus. 

“We do not recall having seen any more striking 
evidence of the arrival of an age of social experimentation 
than little Margery’s rebellion.” — Chicago Evening Post. 

“A dainty idyl, full of charm. Should prove a classic.” 

— Cincinnati Enquirer. 

“Powerful in its subtle analysis of childhood philosophy.” 

— Rochester Union and Advertiser. 

“A most delightful story. . . . Let Mr. Fillmore go 
on writing other stories like ‘ The Hickory Limb. ’ ” 

— Toronto News. 

“An hour of amusement, a series of laughs from the 
heart out, and a pleasant vista backward to the days of child- 
hood will come to the reader of ‘The Hickoiy Limb.’ ” 

— Cincinnati Tribune. 




B 


B 


MY ENEMY— THE MOTOR 

BY 

JULIAN STREET 


Illustrated. Cloth. 16mo. 50 cents net. Postage 6 cents. 


“Will supply all normal readers, motor enthusiasts or 
otherwise, with cause for chuckling during a good half-hour. ’ ’ 

— Chicago Record-Herald. 

‘ ‘ Mr. Street’ s style is lively and vivacious. ’ ’ 

— Boston Transcript. 

“In the manner of Jerome K. Jerome and may be 
heartily commended.” — New York Globe. 

“ The humor of Julian Street first became known by 

the publication of the clever little story ‘ My Enemy — the 

Motor.’ ” — The Boston Herald. 

% 

“More acceptable than the ordinary run of novels 
because it is more amusing, less pretentious and not so long. 
About as long as the ordinary novel might be if only novelists 
would omit superfluities. Just the right length.” 

— N. Y. Evening Sun. 




THE NEED OF CHANGE 

BY 

JULIAN STREET 

Illustrated. Cloth. 16mo. SO cents net. Postage 6 cents. 

“A sketch too good to miss. Deliciously humorous.” 

— Baltimore Sun. 

“Delightful. Jovial and joyous as a fat man’s hearty 
laugh. ’ ’ — Chicago Record-Herald. 

“a brilliant story, sympathetically illustrated.” 

— New York American. 

“Fortify yourself when you start the story. If you 
don’t, you may disturb the passengers by laughing right out 
loud.” — San Francisco Bulletin. 

“ Many laughs between the covers. The story is told 
with spirit and a constant sense of humor.” 

— New York Saturday Review of Books. 

“Now and again you have the extreme luck to run 
across a book that is really FUNNY. Not the machine- 
made, madly-advertised type. ‘The Need of Change’ is 
the kind that usually you pick up by accident, start to run 
through casually, find yourself .startled into a chuckle by some 
unexpected humorous line, and end by reading every word 
with zest and hustling around to loan it to your friends. . . 
Keeps the reader in one continuous howl; the fun never 
becomes forced. A gem!” — Philadelphia Item. 



THE NEW POCKET LIBRARY 

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manufactured for the series 


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Dr. Thome Barchester Towers The Warden 

Framley Parsonage The Bertrams ^ The Three Clerks 

Castle Richmond Orley Farm (2 vols.) Rachel Ray 

The Macdermots of Ballycloran Can you Forgive Her? (a vols.) 
The Small Flouse at Allington (2 vols.) 

The Kellys and the O’Kellys 

Flexible leather ^ $12.00 net Cloth y $8.00 net Express ^o cents 


George Borrow. 5 volumes in dark olive green. 

Lavengro The Romany Rye The Bible in Spaia 

The Zincali Wild Wales 

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Beaconsfield. A reissue of the Novels of the Earl of 
Beaconsfield. Each with an Introduction by the Earl 
of Iddesleigh. 


Sybil Tancred Venetia Contarini Fleming 

Coningsby Henrietta Temple Vivian Grey 


The Young Duke 
The Rise of Iskander 
The Infernal Marriage 


' Alroy 
Popanilla 
Count Alarcos 
Ixion in Heaven 


g volumes inflexible leathery $6.jo net g volumes in cloth, $4.^0 uet 

Express jo cents 


George Eliot 

Adam Bede The Mill on the Floss Silas Marner 

Scenes of Clerical Life 

4 volumes inflexible leather, 00 net 4 volumes in clothy $2X)0 net 

Express 2^ cents 


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